The Prince and I
by Forgotten-empress
Summary: A deep, involved depiction of those lost three years before the arrival of the androids. Bulma and Vegeta have to work out their differences before they can show each other they care.
1. Chapter 1

Hi there everyone. If you are familiar with this story, then you'll probably know that its been a couple years since I've added anything new. Because of this, I've decided to go back to the very beginning and add little changes here and there before I add new chapters (which I will!). I believe that my writing has improved over time, so I want to make sure that my stories on FFN don't lag behind.

The main premise here is to fill in the gaps between Trunks arriving from the future and the 3 year time lapse in which Bulma somehow couples up with Vegeta. They're my absolute favourite DBZ couple... mostly because its hilarious thinking of the different ways in which they have come together. This story explores each character's own mind, i.e., Vegeta will explain a description with more hostility than... well... anyone.

Here you go! Reviews greatly appreciated. I'm so sorry I've kept you all waiting!

* * *

Bulma flinched, wincing at the numbing pain in her hand as she threw it against the control panel in her lab. That goddamned self-centred Saiyan sure had some nerve screaming at her like that.

"I was only trying to help," she mumbled to herself through short gasps.

The haze on the screen remained in the shape of his arrogant face, though the power had been cut off. She burst into thought whilst staring at the negative she burst into thought. His strong physique did not deserve to be constrained by bloody bandages, and yet he injured himself more with each passing day and refused help at every turn. How was it possible for that arrogant man to know so much about fighting, yet so little about his own limits? He had long since breached them, and now he was at breaking point. He could not ascend into a Super Saiyan… he just couldn't…

_He'll kill himself first._

She shuddered at the thought; he was such a fool. She remained still for the next few moments until, recollecting her thoughts, she felt a tear roll down her face. Bulma looked down to see blood lightly covering the control panel in a sickly red, suddenly realising that she had cut her hand when she hit it against the hard metal surface. Muttering to herself, she reluctantly rose from her chair and headed towards the first-aid kit. With a bandage in place, she mopped up the spilled blood and looked over the board to check she hadn't damaged anything other than just her hand. Of course, Capsule Corporation projects were built to last and even the strongest kick from Bulma's steel cap boots wouldn't inflict so much as a scratch on the equipment. At least, they were made to withstand human interaction. Saiyans, on the other hand…

"Damned jerk!" That unfortunate train of thought managed to bring him back into mind again. Ever since the explosion that Vegeta caused a few days prior, Bulma had to work very hard to keep her mind straight; somehow he managed to set afoot many different emotions within her all at the same time: anger, annoyance, sympathy…

But he didn't seem to care the slightest about how she felt. He was always such a prick, Mr. "Prince Of All Saiyans". He could do anything.

_So he thinks…_

When Bulma looked into his eyes, she could see straight through the coldness… she saw his mortality.

* * *

Vegeta had been working out in the capsule ship that Dr. Briefs had made for Goku's friends to travel on to Namek. Instead of stowing it away once they learned that everyone was safe, the fool left it out on the yard for Vegeta to claim. It had been quite a while since he had heard from Kakarot, until that strange purple-haired boy came claiming his crazy predictions of the future. And then _he_ appeared. Vegeta could scarcely imagine how Kakarot could survive intergalactic travel at such a weakened state, but then again, he _was _a Saiyan.

_A third-class Saiyan… you can hardly even compare him to me._

Nonetheless, with Kakarot back and the youth's nonsense about androids 'foretold' to appear in three years, Vegeta felt claustrophobic. There was only enough room on this planet for one true Saiyan, and Kakarot had not right to claim that title, despite his ascension to Super Saiyan. If a low level warrior could do it… so could he. He was, after all, the rightful successor to the Saiyan throne – the Prince Of All Saiyans.

Regardless of what truths might actually exist in all of this nonsense, Vegeta had a reason to work even harder than ever before. Since his arrival from Namek he spent his spare time training to ascend, slowly gaining power as each day progressed, but now the sudden reappearance of his arch foe had him admittedly flustered; his ego was being challenged. Vegeta thought not of any future robots; there was nothing that a tin can could do that was superior to him. This was all about Kakarot, and his attack on Vegeta's pride.

The woman had turned on her screen inside the ship, which in turn threw him off guard. Vegeta gave into the massive gravitational pull exerted upon him, which pulled him down into the floor at a rocketing speed. He groaned as the cracked tiles dug into his strained body. This only made him look weak to the woman; he resented the face she pulled. He did not need anyone's pity.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" he screamed, as the energy he emitted caused the screen to short-circuit. She was _always_ watching him these days and it infuriated him. He lost focus just once, summoning more energy than he should have and completely obliterating part of the large fish pond in the grounds. Heck, he thought it was funny that he somehow managed to get a firey explosion out of a watery cesspool, but _she_... _she was worried_.

Vegeta's only regret was that those pathetic humans fished him out of the mess of marble and mud to confine him to a bed for some days. They had no right to do so, and it damaged the progress he was making on his training. If only they had the brains to create a healing device similar to that which was on Freiza's ship, then he could be back to one hundred percent and would feel the benefits of increased power coursing through his veins. Instead he was forced to put up with these useless humans babbling on about long periods of recovery, and once he was back on his feet it took two full days to get back into top form.

This species was truly weak, mostly because of their inane ability to become so fundamentally clouded by emotions. However, these foolish emotions did tie them to him in a sort of way that granted him easy access to the provision of food and clean garments. Sure it was fun to cause destruction and chaos, but it was simply easier to play along with their silly games, and it reminded him of back when he had his own servants on his home planet. So he played along... with minimal loss of life, but only because the humans worked much slower when they grieved. Especially that blue-haired loudmouth. What a shame she was so necessary for maintaining his training grounds. All he had to do was let go of his energy... just for a second... and then the noise would stop.

Vegeta tried to continue his training, but after a few minutes his stomach growled and his mind flickered back to the thought of food. He decided he could spare himself some time from training to regain nourishment. After all, once he had eaten his fill he would simply go back and work even harder.

He stepped out of the pod once the stairs had lowered to the ground. The light was harsh on his eyes; he had entered before the rise of the sun and had grown accustomed the dim red lights in the ship after so many hours already that day. The wind was cool against his chest, sending a chill along his back. Truly, this planet was despicable. How could any sentient life form actually wish to exist here? It was truly an enigma.

Walking into the mansion, he found himself a seat at the end of a large table by the kitchen, and waited. It seemed no one was around. Although he was pleased that he would not have to endure any codswallop from the women who inhabited this establishment, Vegeta was hungry and their presence was a necessary evil for his satiation. Growing impatient, Vegeta slumped from his perfect posture and rested his chin in his hand. After a minute had passed, he bellowed.

* * *

"WOMAN!"

_So he calls…_

Bulma thought to herself sarcastically. That damned Saiyan and his arrogance. Who did he think she was, a servant? This was _her_ house he was staying in… _as a guest_. Probably the most ornery guest she had ever come across, and she had met a few doozies in her time! Still, she thought it would be best to check out what he was up to, and what was making him so loud.

Not even a half hour had passed since he had verbally lashed out at her, demanding she '_leave him alone'_, when now he was calling her. Bulma smirked to herself as she thought this… he really couldn't keep away. So much for being able to take care of himself.

_He needs me after all._

Bulma stepped into the kitchen, where she found the proud prince drumming his fingers on the table impatiently.

"Finally. What took you so long?" spat Vegeta, his eyes focused on the grains of wood on the tabletop.

"I was in the lab," came her reply.

"Not good enough. I have been waiting here a whole six minutes. Do you have any idea that you kept me sitting here this long?"

"I thought you wanted me to '_leave you alone_'," Bulma snapped, emphasising the words that he had used. She put her hands on her hips and shot him a glare.

"Yes well now you are going to make me lunch, woman. I'm famished, and only the best of cuisine will satisfy me," Vegeta avoided her look and pointed at the kitchen, "so get to it. You have kept me long enough!"

Bulma made an exasperated groan, throwing her arms in the air. "You are so insufferable! You called me all the way up here just to make you a sandwich? Do it yourself!" She turned to head back for the lab.

"You _will_ make me food, woman. And not just some _sandwich_… I need nourishment so that I can keep up with my heavy training routine," Vegeta intervened in a low voice.

Bulma stopped and thought about how hard he had been working. Vegeta had been in that ship training at every opportunity, stopping only to eat and sleep. It was a wonder to her how he managed to smell so good despite the sweat he was working up every day. She turned around to face Vegeta again, noticing scratches that had formed down his chest. His burly body was covered in bandages that hugged his form, but most were at least partially ripped, showing the damage that he had been inflicting upon himself from his endless hours training. Feeling a wave of sympathy for how he must have felt, she was about to give in, until her mother entered through the hallway.

"Mom, would you make Vegeta something to eat?" she said softly, all of the anger having drained from her mind.

"Oh sure dear, but why don't you cook for him yourself?" replied Bunny, "A good woman knows how to cook for her man, dear," she said with a sweet smile.

"MOM!" exclaimed Bulma, "He is _not_ my _man_!" Her hands forming fists as she yelled at the very thought of Vegeta being on the receiving-end of her love.

"Oh dear! I'm sorry!" giggled Bunny, "I forgot that you and that boy Yamcha are back together. My, he should be careful, if you were so lucky to have _this_ man's affection," pointing at Vegeta, which made him sit back uncomfortably, "he is just _so_ strong and handsome!"

Bunny walked up to Bulma and winked so only she could see, giggling again. As Bulma raised her arms again, her mother noticed the bandage around her hand.

"Oh dear, what happened here?" she asked softly.

"Nothing mom, just had a disagreement with the control panel set up in the lab," Bulma tried to shrug it off, hoping Vegeta wouldn't notice the infliction that he had indirectly caused. She pulled her hand away, as her mother made a comment about this being why she couldn't cook for 'her man'.

"I'm going back to the lab," Bulma announced, and she left, knowing that Vegeta would receive the feast he so desired.

* * *

Vegeta was coming to the end of an intense training session, fuelled by the meal that Bunny had prepared for him. After many hours of creating energy blasts and strengthening his body under the weight of 400g, he was beginning to feel fatigue overcoming him. As he lowered himself to the floor of the ship, he switched off the gravity machine and took a seat on a step by a window. His bandages were clinging to his body from the sweat he was producing. They were bothering him, so he ripped one off.

The pain was stronger than he had anticipated, and he winced as a trickle of blood came from the wound the cloth was covering. It seemed that these were not only here for the purpose of restricting his movement as some sort of devious ploy by the woman... they seemed to be actually keeping him together. Vegeta slowly peeled away two more bandages only to come to the same conclusion: blood was seeping out from the wounds that were caused a week before in the mighty explosion. He thought that he had fully recovered, and wore these bandages grudgingly to stop bickering from the woman. It seemed that he was working a little _too_ strenuously. Perhaps he would allow himself another hour of sleep this evening.

Vegeta stood up and let himself out of the pod, walking towards his allocated room within the confines of the property. He struggled to keep his posture correct, almost limping on his left leg as he made his way into the mansion and his room. Entering the en-suite bathroom, he threw the bandages onto the floor, and stepped into the shower.

The searing water flowed over his body and he hissed as it came into contact with the many cuts and scratches he had accumulated. He used the hot water to deter his thoughts, and eventually managed to stop the bleeding with scalding heat. Hopefully this would not happen again; he was not so weak that his body would break out in gashes and weep his pure blood onto this filthy rock. He could not let anyone witness this, especially not that woman. She had caused enough trouble for him when she found him injured the first time. If she were to discover this now, she would never leave him alone. He did not require the pity of a pathetic emotion-filled human, or anyone else for that matter.

Drying himself off, Vegeta put on a pair of silk shorts that the humans provided him with, and stepped into bed. He had still not quite gotten used to human beds; they were overly soft and some contained springs to support his body. It was nothing like the cold hard beds they used on Vegeta-sei. They helped to train the warrior's mind as he slept, as they were uncomfortable and forced the need for endurance to overcome this burden. These human beds were luxurious; Vegeta had not experienced this comfort until he came to Earth. This was just another one of its weaknesses.

_Humans are so fragile._

Vegeta thought to himself. This bed was dangerous, as it caused him to lull into a comfort that he should not have. He was a fighter, the Prince of a warrior race. He needed to keep on his toes, not wallow in emotion. He stepped out of the bed as he had every night before and slept on the floor, without pillows or blankets. At least this time he didn't have to keep an eye open for people checking up on him and forcing him back into the bed.

_End Chapter 1_


	2. Chapter 2

As the sun peeked through the curtains covering the windows, it cast a ray of light onto Bulma's face. She frowned, rolling over and pulling her pillow over her eyes. Just as she was beginning to get comfortable again, she was startled by a loud beeping noise next to her head. It was 6am, and it was time to get up. Bulma groaned as she fumbled her hand towards the alarm, searching for the snooze button. Instead she accidentally nudged the volume dial, making the loud beeps more relatable to car horns.

"Waaah!" she shrieked as she leapt up in surprise. She was not prepared for this. Instead of lying comfortably in her large fluffy bed, Bulma was now kneeling in it, her blankets splayed across the ground, and her alarm hanging off the bedside table by the power cord.

_Looks like it's going to be one of those days._

As she got up to prepare herself for the new day, she pulled out the top drawer in her closet and inspected what to wear. She decided that although the day would be a little chilly, she would be inside the regulated temperature of her lab, so she picked out a bright pink dress with a big yellow bow on the waist. She tied her hair back into a ponytail, and stood back at the mirror to admire herself. She was certainly one for vibrant colours, definitely the best dressed in the lab. Thinking back to when she first invited Vegeta to stay at her place, she remembered the pink shirt she gave him. She remembered his bellows of distaste against it, "I'm a warrior, not a variety of flower!" She giggled.

_We'd certainly look like a couple of cute flowers in our pink outfits._

She let that thought wash over her, giggling again knowingly of his rejection of the colour. Maybe she should suggest he wear it again; the sheer pleasure of watching him squirm aside, it would just be nice to see Vegeta in something more… human. But then again, he was nothing like one. He was a scary, mean brute, with the sense of manners and personality of a rock. He had other features that made him like a rock too…

She shook her head as she walked out of her room and downstairs, trying to change her train of thought.

* * *

Vegeta was waiting at the end of the table again, just as he usually was. His fingers had actually made five small indents on the surface where he rhythmically drummed his fingers. He grew up with people flocking to his side, bothering him with pointless questions about his wellbeing. Is he hungry, does he need something to drink, is the table decoration to his liking? Even stuck on Freiza's ship, people had respect enough to ensure that Vegeta was satisfied with everything he was presented with. Now here he sat, forming holes in a table fit for a peasant waiting, _actually waiting,_ for the woman to take her sweet time to come down from her tower above. But that wasn't the end of it! Not only did she have the nerve to make him wait, she always made him fight for his meal. Eating should be relaxing, it should restore the body of its energy! It should not mean a ten-minute argument about why this woman, who rightfully belonged in the kitchen, should "grace" him with a prepared meal.

Footsteps. That means she was finally awake. He scowled at the doorframe, waiting for her to enter. When she did, she met his gaze and simply rolled her eyes. This didn't help the situation. He had been sitting there for nearly thirty minutes. Thirty minutes that could have been spent training.

"Morning Vegeta," Bulma said exasperatedly, "what'll it be?"

"What?" Vegeta sat up in his chair confused. He could not believe that she had just walked over to the fridge and asked him what he desired. For once the world was working his way.

"Breakfast… you know, food," came the reply in the same tone as before. Bulma put one hand on the fridge door and the other on her hip.

"I know what you meant, woman!" he barked at her, "I just wasn't expecting that you had finally come to your senses and submitted to my will." He smirked.

"Don't you start, I plan on having a good day today."

"What is that supposed to mean? That serving me isn't on your list of things you yearn to do?" his tone baiting her.

"That's right," she said, taking her hand off the fridge door.

"I thought you were having fun watching me day and night," he crossed his arms against his chest and leaned back into the chair, the smirk still very clear on his face.

"You hurt yourself very badly! You could _have killed_ yourself-" she began, but was stopped by Vegeta's deep laugh.

"Nonsense! What do you take me for? I am nothing like your weak species."

"Yeah, well my 'weak species' is the reason why you recovered so damned quickly!" Bulma's voice was rising very hot very fast. "My _species_ is the reason why you hurt yourself in the first place… if it wasn't for my dad, you wouldn't have anything to even train in!"

"So you admit it then."

Bulma stopped and looked confused. "Admit what?"

"It was _your_ fault that infernal machine exploded." He had caught her.

"You are so… so…" she began.

"Lost for words? Is your heart that filled with guilt?" Vegeta laughed again at the anguish upon her face. "I can tell that you wanted me tied down so you could get close enough to gaze upon my visage." She was about to go off.

"You _know_ that's not what I meant. Why do you always have to be so difficult?" Bulma was trying hard to keep her composure. "Here I am, trying to stop all this nonsense by just making your food so I can get out of here and do what I want to do, and you just egg me on! Is this just a game to you?"

"It most certainly is. And that is a good idea: eggs! With bacon," Vegeta's voice was calm and collected compared to Bulma's.

"What?"

"You know… food."

"OH, GET IT YOURSELF!" And with that she stormed away.

Before she left audible range, he thought he heard the woman mumbling something about a rock. Humans were so strange.

Vegeta felt a sense of accomplishment, but then realised that she would not be back to prepare him food. Now he would have to wait for someone else to wake up. Being a Saturday, it seemed that he would be waiting many hours. But it was worth it, and he decided he could take a small break. His chest still ached underneath his training uniform. Maybe another shower would help.

* * *

_Rrrrring! Rrrrring!_

The telephone began to sound just as the clock struck 9am. Bulma was working away at a project when she looked up, startled, for the source of the noise. Working her way through her mess of papers, she uncovered the phone, but only as it had just stopped ringing. The answering machine had already gone off, so she let it play as she went back to work:

"_Hi! You've reached Bulma Briefs, genius extraordinaire! Leave me a message!"_

_BEEP_

"Oh, hi Babe. I was just hoping you'd be arou-"

It was Yamcha! She leapt for the phone. She managed to snatch it up in her good hand, but bumped her bandaged one on the side of the desk as she did so.

"Ouch!" she muttered as her mouth reached the mouthpiece.

"Ouch?" Yamcha stopped mid-sentence, questioning this sound that he thought came from the machine.

"Oh sorry Yamcha, I hit my hand on the desk," Bulma apologised. "Anyway, what's up? What are _you _doing calling me so early in the morning? Aren't you usually still sleeping at this time?"

"Hey Bulma!" Yamcha soon realised she had picked up, "I thought you weren't there. I just wanted to call to see how you're doing."

"I'm alright, just doing my usual thing," she replied.

"Oh, stuck in that dusty ol' lab again?" Yamcha joked.

"Hey! It's not dusty. In fact, its much cleaner than _your_ place, if I correctly recall."

"Okay, okay, fair enough."

Bulma could tell he was probably standing in his apartment, surrounded by the sort of mess bachelors are used to. She couldn't understand why he had moved out of her house in the first place. There was plenty of room, and he'd still stayed there back when they were sorting out issues when they were younger.

_It must come with the territory of being a guy_.

"So anyway," Yamcha said, cutting into her thoughts, "I was wondering if you wanted to get away from that lab of yours and come spend a day on the town with me."

Bulma smiled. She hadn't been expecting this at all; her plans were to just stay in here till she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer.

"Of course! I'd love to," she beamed.

"Great. I was hoping you would. I'll pick you up in an hour."

"Mmhm, I'll see you soon!"

Bulma set the phone down with a click. She was so glad that even though Yamcha was supposed to be training, he still wanted to spend some time with her; he really cared about her.

Bulma ran up to her room, and tried to improve her appearance to look bright and ready for a good time. She had already spent two and a half hours that morning in the lab and her hair was on its way to dishevelled . She never wore makeup when she didn't plan on being seen, and suddenly an hour seemed like a very short amount of time. She set to work at trying to brush her hair into something nice, and then put on her face. It had warmed up substantially since earlier in the morning, so she decided to keep the dress. By the time she was ready, she heard the door ring.

_Perfect timing_.

She thought to herself, as she skipped out of her room.

* * *

_Ding dong!_

"Would someone stop that blasted noise!"

The doorbell was getting on Vegeta's nerves. Well, everything was at present. The clock was ticking too loud, the room smelt funny, and it was stuffy inside. The perfect start to a morning. It didn't help that Bunny and Dr Briefs had only just come down from their room for breakfast. They had kept Vegeta waiting oh so very long.

"Oh, Vegeta! Good morning!" Bunny smiled at him sweetly. "How did you sleep dear?"

"Ah, I slept rather well! Though, the pillow I used was a little furry. That was until I realised that I was sleeping on Scratch! My goodness he gave me quite a fright. Didn't you, kitty?" Dr Briefs patted the cat that was sitting on his shoulder. He looked slightly agitated, his fur a mess.

"Aw, come on Scratch. You know I didn't mean it," Dr Briefs tried to reason with the cat. "Let me make it up to you. I know! I'll take you out for ice-cream!"

The cat's eyes widened and he let out a happy meow as he was patted again.

"Oh, my you are so funny," giggled Bunny. "I meant to ask Vegeta how he slept!"

"Oh, sorry," Dr Briefs let out a cheesy smile.

"So… Vegeta?" Bunny turned back to the Saiyan who was drumming impatiently at the table.

"What?" he snapped.

"Did you sleep well last night?"

"That is none of your business! Do you know how long I have been waiting!" His voice began to rise.

"For what, dear?"

_Ding dong!_

"Oh, the door! I wonder how long that has been ringing. I should go see who it is," and with that, Bunny walked over to answer the door.

"Argh!" Vegeta let out an angry groan. What is _with_ these humans? One is a complete idiot, and the other talks to a blasted cat! He didn't even want to begin with what was wrong with the _other_ woman. Speak of the devil.

Bulma came skipping from down the hall, and then broke into a run to the door. She stopped just as she noticed Bunny speaking to Yamcha, and tried to straighten up her hair. Why was everyone flocking over _that guy_, when Vegeta was clearly trying to get some attention? He was hungry, and quickly growing furious towards these imbeciles.

"So, er, Vegeta. I was wondering-" Dr Briefs began, before he was cut off.

"WHAT?" Vegeta screamed. The force coming from his voice startled everyone, and managed to knock over the vase in the middle of the table without being touched. Bulma, Bunny and Yamcha stared in from the hall, and Dr Briefs looked as though he might need a change of pants.

"Er… um… never mind." He managed to blurt out. He was frozen stiff in his position in the kitchen. Scratch had fallen off his shoulder and was hanging by his claws to the doctor's back.

"Why do I even bother with you fools?" Vegeta said exasperatedly. He then stood up, knocking his chair backwards on the ground at the same time as shoving the table forward a few inches, and stormed out of the room.

Why had he just spent all that time waiting for those humans? It was obvious that they lacked any intelligence whatsoever to be able to see that he required something. He decided that he wouldn't put up with their nonsense for any longer, even if that meant skipping a meal. He was hungry, but that just meant that the training would be harder on his body. He didn't mind the idea, once he thought of it in that sense. He wasn't raised to care about such trivial things anyway. That was the responsibility of those inferior to him.

Vegeta made his way to the capsule ship and entered it. He pulled a fresh fighting suit out of the storage cabinet and replaced his earth clothes with this. It felt comfortably snug, and made him feel better knowing he would be practising his fighting. A sound of laughter from inside the house crept its way into his auditory range. He frowned, as he closed the capsule door and clicked on the power. As the gravity machine charged up, he let the beautiful sound of something doing what it's supposed to envelop him. He was always enthralled by the sound of the engines straining to reach 400g.

_End Chapter 2_


	3. Chapter 3

Bulma shut the door quietly behind her. It was midnight, and everyone else was in bed already. Her 'day on the town' ended up including pizza and a movie back at Yamcha's apartment. It wasn't quite to her standard, but it was still nice to spend some quality time with her boyfriend. If it weren't for his training schedule, Bulma probably would have stayed the night there. She had such a great time, and it was a shame for the day to be over already. She leaned with her back against the door, and slid down to rest on the floor, her knees at her chest. She buried her head in her lap and smiled to herself.

It was so quiet in the house, something Bulma wasn't used to. Normally someone else would be awake and doing something, or some machine would be whirring. Tonight there was just her and the ticking of the clock on the wall. The loud 'tick's from the device was peaceful and soothing, and it let her thoughts soar effortlessly through her mind. Then, she remembered something she thought she had heard Yamcha say. Bulma wasn't sure, because he said it so quickly while they were watching the movie and she didn't pay any attention, but something in the back of her mind was definitely trying to tell her something. Bulma sat there by the door, head still in her lap, struggling to conjure up her memory. Why was it that she could remember the schematics for an intricate piece of technology like the back of her hand, but fail to remember a certain sentence uttered a mere few hours ago?

Bulma decided that the only thing to do would be to get word straight from the horse's mouth. She grabbed the nearest cordless phone, and dialled Yamcha's number as she walked into the garden at the middle of the house. The door slid open and she sat on a bench next to the water fountain as the tone rang. After a few rings, she thought that it was too late, and he might have gone to bed already; she had taken the liberty of getting herself home as she didn't want to cause a fuss, she was a big girl after all. As she began to take the phone from her ear, she heard him click on.

"Hello?" came a soft answer from Yamcha over the phone.

"Yamcha, oh I hope I didn't wake you!"

"Bulma? Did you forget something at my place?"

"No, I didn't. Its just that there is something on my mind that I need to clear up," Bulma's voice grew softer for reasons she did not know. The roar from the fountain next to her was dull, but enough to muffle her words enough so Yamcha had trouble hearing her.

"Sorry, what? I can't hear you," came the puzzled reply.

"I said I need to clear something up," she replied, this time with a stronger tone.

"Oh?" Yamcha sounded worried, "what is it?"

"Um… Yamcha, remember when we were watching the movie tonight-" she began.

"The one with the ninjas, right?" Yamcha cut in.

"Right. You kno-"

"That was so good when he did a triple back flip from the ceiling! He landed right on the bad dude's shoulders!"

"_Yamcha._" Bulma just couldn't get it out with him blabbering about the awful movie. It had terrible actors, and she could actually see the strings on then when they did stunts. If it weren't so hysterically bad, it would have probably put her to sleep. But she didn't have time to have squabble over this with Yamcha. She needed to stay on topic.

"Sorry… what were you saying?" The sound of worry returned. Something was always up when Bulma didn't have patience to put up with his talks of nonsense.

"When we were watching the movie, you said something to me," she began, "I didn't really notice or remember what you said because there was that scene with the explosion. You really do play your television too loud." Bulma found it only too easy to lecture someone, even when it wasn't her intention.

"Yeah, sorry about that. It just feels more… real."

"Yes but Yamcha, what do you say?"

"I can't remember, babe, sorry."

"I've known you for a while Yamcha… and I know that you don't like conversation during a martial arts movie _ever_. That is something that I have come to learn from the years of being your girlfriend." Bulma was starting to get agitated at his attempt at playing dumb. She knew well and good that he was hiding something from her. But if he had said it once, he could say it again, and she would get the words out of his mouth one way or another.

"You caught me…" he said slowly, "I was trying to tell you all day, but I just couldn't! When I finally worked up the courage, I said it so fast you didn't even realise, but I couldn't say it again."

"What was it?"

"I just don't want to make you upset Bulma."

"_What_ is it?" if he was afraid of hurting her, the news mustn't be good.

"You know how everyone is training hard so we can beat the androids that we heard about from that guy?" Yamcha began.

"Yeah…"

"Well, I've decided that if I truly want to become strong, I need to go travelling again, like I did back when the World Martial Arts Championships were still going." He sounded unsure of himself as he worded everything every slowly and carefully.

"But… that was almost three years!" Bulma exclaimed.

"Yes, and we have three years until the androids are supposed to show up. Just think of how much stronger I can get in that time."

He started to bring up how everyone else was training so hard, and that he felt as though he just wasn't putting in as much effort as he thought he should. It was at this point that Bulma took the phone away from her ear and cradled it as she rested her hand in her lap. The sounds of water next to her washed away the sound of Yamcha's voice as he tried to justify himself. But Bulma didn't care. Her mind was reeling. She had only had him back for about a year since he was revived, and due to his 'training', they weren't as close as they once were. And now he was going again, but this time far enough away that they couldn't spend a day or two together every week. This was not what she had planned for their relationship.

"When?" she muttered to herself. She could hear Yamcha asking where she was from the handset, so she put it back to her ear. "When are you going?" she asked dully.

"I'm going to get supplies tomorrow, and leave the next day," Yamcha replied.

"So… what would have happened if you didn't tell me? What if I tried calling you the day after tomorrow?" She began to feel flushed. She stood up from the bench she was resting upon and kept going, her voice raising with every syllable. "What would have happened? Would you have just left me here all alone with no knowing what happened to you? What kind of person does that to their girlfriend! I thought you actually _cared_ about me Yamcha!"

"Babe-" he tried to intervene, but was cut off.

"Don't you 'babe' me! You don't have the right! I've put up with you taking off on me for far too long, 'Mr. Bandit'. You even moved out on your own to get away from me, didn't you! Do you really hate me that much? Am I not beautiful enough, or something? What is it that the other girls do that I can't? Today was just a ruse, wasn't it?"

Only silence came from the other end of the line.

"Answer me Yamcha!" Bulma screamed, causing all the sleepy animals in the garden to groan at her disturbance. Tears began to roll down her face and form puddles on her pink dress as she bent back into the bench and cried into her lap, the phone still at her ear.

"B...Bulma," was all that Yamcha could muster the courage to say. 'Bulma, don't cry. Listen, I would never do anything like that to you, you know you're my one and only," he said softly, trying to comfort her.

"But what about the other girls?" she muttered.

"There are no other girls. They're just fans of the baseball team I play for. But I won't be with them anymore when I go off training, so there won't be any girls."

There was a prolonged silence between the two, as they listened to Bulma's rapid breaths from her emotional outburst. Eventually it seemed as though she was beginning to calm down.

"Then… why are you doing this?" Bulma asked.

_Why are you doing this to me?_

"I told you why," Yamcha cooed, "I need to get stronger if I have any chance of changing this timeline."

Another silence. Bulma's breaths were slowing down as she stopped crying. She felt stupid. _Of course _Yamcha wanted to go out and train. Ever since Goku was young, he was able to easily defeat Yamcha. It must have made him feel so inferior. He must want to make some difference, instead of sitting around the sidelines like he did for the last big battle. Those boys were always out looking for trouble, and while Goku was having fun beating up Freiza in Namek, Yamcha was probably sitting on a cloud somewhere trying to ignore the fact that he was dead and useless.

These thoughts seemed to comfort Bulma, reassuring her that Yamcha was still hers, and that he only wanted to make a difference in the world. This was no make-believe story conjured up by some floozy girl who caught his eye in the crowd during a game. Regardless, it wasn't up to Yamcha to make the big decisions... thats what Goku was there for. Goku always came through for them.

"Bulma?" She had sunk into silence again while her thoughts were playing in her mind.

"Sorry, I was just thinking," she said quietly. "Listen, can you come over tomorrow so we can talk about this properly?"

"Sure Babe. I'll come round about noon?"

"Okay," she felt a little better knowing she would be able to have a heart-to-heart before he left, "I think it's bedtime now."

"Me too," she could tell he was putting on a weak smile on the other end of the line, "Goodnight Bulma."

"Night Yamcha." Bulma clicked off the phone.

Bulma was still feeling terrible after that conversation, but she was glad she had called. After all, what would have happened had she left it for another day, and he had already left? She still wasn't sure if he would have or not, but this was not a subject she wanted to think about.

After another five or so minutes sitting silently on the bench, Bulma began to feel chills run through her body. The garden was cooler than all other parts of the house because of the open spaces and large water features, and she was still wearing her pink summery dress. Wrapping her hands around her shoulders, Bulma eased herself up and slowly paced her way to the door. The main entrance was dark as the door from the garden opened, and when the automatic lights flickered on, the sensation made Bulma's eyes water. It was much dimmer in the garden, and she had spent enough time in there for her eyes to have had adjusted to that ambience. After a few seconds she could see properly again, so she staggered her way through the hall and to her room. She knew the place well, and decided that using the library as a thoroughfare would cut out at least a couple minutes with the pace she was walking. As she entered, she dropped the phone carelessly on the nearest surface. This surface being Vegeta.

"Hey, watch it!" he growled, making her jump back a mile. Bulma's heart received such a jolt from the shock that she felt she had just run a marathon.

"V…Vegeta? What are you doing? Its almost one!" Bulma was absolutely flabbergasted. She had certainly not expected to run into anyone at this time of night, let alone in the library.

"That's none of your business," he snapped, turning his head in the direction opposite to her.

"Fine, I don't care," she muttered, as she continued through the long library passage. When she reached the door she turned back, "sorry about the phone. I guess I'm just not with it right now."

"Any fool would notice that. You're lucky I'm just not in a mood to show you your place," Vegeta replied, still turned away from Bulma.

Bulma shook her head as she stepped out and found herself a short distance from her room.

_Why are men always such self-absorbed… creatures?_

She thought to herself, as she shut the door. She was so mad all of a sudden, with that thought, that she had to do something to express herself. After she clicked the door closed behind her, she lashed out and punched it with her hand balled into a bandaged fist. It was at the moment of contact that she realised this was not the best idea. Her hand was still swollen and sore from the day prior. She let out a scream infused with the emotions of anger, sadness and pain, and she didn't care who heard.

_End Chapter 3_


	4. Chapter 4

Vegeta was sitting in an uncomfortably plush chair with the lights blearing on him. If it weren't for the useless automatic lights that were installed throughout the Brief complex, he'd be reading in a much dimmer light, but he had to make do with what he was given. After all, who was he if he could not be resourceful?

_Boredom does many crazy things to a man._

Vegeta thought to himself. He suddenly corrected his thoughts, disgusted at himself.

"I am no man. I am a Saiyan. End of story," he muttered himself disdainfully. He placed down the book hastily in his lap and said, "What am I doing? I'm getting too comfortable here. Sitting in this pathetic chair reading their pathetic texts. Is this what I am reduced to?"

Before this moment, he had been lightly skimming over a thick text titled "Conquerors of the Ages". It was something that had caught his eye, and was somewhat interesting, as it listed in full detail some of the most vicious tyrants the Earth had ever seen. Despite this, there was no mention of Freiza or any other warlord that he had ever known. This dated binding contained only names of those hailing from this small planet. It was hardly a useful resource. He was about to scrap the book when he noticed Bulma stumbling into the room.

Bulma looked frail, as she ambled through the library, her hair dishevelled, and her face and clothing stained with tears. But Vegeta didn't notice these trivialities, what he saw was in her eyes. They were dark and void of any notions of coherence, something he had not seen up close from a human. He was unsure if this was a weakness or strength, but didn't have time to deliberate the fact, as Bulma had suddenly dropped the telephone she was clinging to onto his lap.

Vegeta issued her a warning, to let her know he was there. She clearly did not notice him beforehand, as displayed by her wild motion of spinning in his direction at the same time as staggering away from him. She squeaked something out of her feeble mouth, but it didn't seem to make much sense to him. He simply replied that she had no business in whatever she wanted to know. The truth was that he was too physically exhausted to continue training, but his mind still raced thinking of the looming threat that was less than three years away. He turned his head away from her and feigned interest in the book he was holding.

As Bulma departed the library, Vegeta issued a mild threat, still pretending to be entranced in the writings of the book. He heard the door shut loudly, and waited a few seconds before he deemed her gone. With that, he got up and tossed the book onto a shelf. As he walked out of a different doorway towards his room, he noticed the lights flicker on in his hallway and off in the library. It was such a useless feature of this household. He could see well enough in low light to find his way through any passage, and this harsh light was hurting his eyes. He would have to 'suggest' this issue to the Doctor at their next encounter.

* * *

It was 5:30am when Vegeta finally decided to climb out of bed to start his day. He found no relief in any activities he had done that night, and as a result found no sleep. His last resort was trying the cushy bed he was given, but it did not cure his insomnia. Although he would never admit it, Vegeta was training far too strenuously, and his body was not coping well. However, he would continue with his regime, as he would not allow a little lost sleep slow him down. He had to do everything within himself to achieve a level surpassing that of Kakarot. His pride would not let him fail.

Wiping his eyes, Vegeta managed to clamber out of the bed awkwardly. He seemed to be almost glued into it, which he soon discovered was due to dried blood encrusting itself between his body and the sheets. His wounds had still not healed. He decided to opt for an early morning shower before heading out for training. He decided that today he would not waste time waiting around for someone, and instead work a little before stopping at around noon. Surely someone would have to be up by then, he had reasoned, and also the activity would be a suitable warm up so he could press on with more difficult methods.

After a long shower, in which he made sure to scrub off all of the blood from his body, he slipped on a fresh Saiyan fighting uniform and made his way through the massive complex to the capsule pod. He planned to have a relatively slow warm up this morning, consisting of mainly stretches, crunches, push-ups and sit-ups. Then he would practice a few katas. By then, it should be time for him to take a break. Instead of following his plans, however, Vegeta found himself working harder than he anticipated. As a result of this he decided it would be easier to take off his uniform and wear shorts instead, as he was working up a great deal of sweat and the uniform was beginning to wear out quite quickly as he spent more and more time in the pod. It was a good thing that the humans were making him more uniforms to replace the shredded one.

When Vegeta looked at the clock, he was startled to see that it read 1:37pm. He had missed his planned time of noon. This was less than an uncommon occurrence; Vegeta was trained to always adhere to deadlines. Perhaps he was letting himself get too worked up in his training.

He exited the pod shortly thereafter, and made his way to the main part of the house where the living quarters were located. As he entered, he noticed that the maid was in the kitchen. She, of course, was not a maid; Bunny was Bulma's mother, but in Vegeta's eyes she existed solely to serve others, which made it a fitting description. He grunted loudly to catch her attention. This worked, and she spun around enthusiastically to greet him.

"Why, hello there Vegeta," Bunny beamed, "isn't it such a lovely day? Why haven't I seen you earlier? Were you busy working hard this morning?" She shot her questions at Vegeta quickly, as though she had anticipated that he would not answer. "My, that is so noble, to work so hard towards your goal," she swooned.

Vegeta let out a low growl as he furrowed his brow and said to the woman, "I am not here for 'chit-chat'. I have better things to do than listen to you go on."

"Goodness, I am sorry Vegeta! I forgot that you are such a busy man!" Bunny apologised and looked toward the ground. Suddenly, her head shot back up as she looked towards Vegeta, "But you must have worked up such an appetite! Come and sit over here with me," she motioned towards an intimate table with two chairs, "I'll make you something to eat!"

Vegeta wasn't prepared to argue at the suggestion of food, but he felt uncomfortable that she wanted him to sit at such a small table. He looked around the room, as Bunny scrambled behind the counter, when it suddenly came to his attention that the grand table he so often rapped his fingers against was missing. Instead, there was what seemed like a giant gaping hole in the room; he was not used to this kind of space in the kitchen, despite its overwhelming size.

"Where has the table gone?" he demanded.

"Sweetie, its right there, I just showed you," Bunny pointed to the small table that sat in the corner of the room.

"I meant the large table that usually stands where I am now standing," Vegeta said as he waved his hands to signify the empty space.

"Oh that silly thing," Bunny giggled, "Bulma is using it in the other room."

"Can't she use something else?" he groaned.

"My, Vegeta, I didn't know you were so fond of this silly dining table!" She said with a raised voice so she could be heard over her clanging of pots and pans. "Don't worry, it'll be back after Yamcha heads off."

_Yamcha? What did his presence have to do with this?_

Vegeta thought to himself, as Bunny continued with her cooking. While she was busy, Vegeta slipped away. He wanted to know what was so important that it had to interrupt his routine – Vegeta found comfort in tapping away at the wood – and it would be a good distraction while he was waiting for his food to be prepared.

Vegeta silently snuck by every room within the complex, but found no trace of Bulma and Yamcha. As a last resort he tried channelling his mind to seek their ki, and did so easily. The two were in a back room of the mansion, one that he had overlooked. It took several minutes to reach it due to the sheer size of the house he was in. When he did finally approach the door he was seeking, he carefully edged his way to it. He could hear voices, and to his luck, they were loud enough for his enhanced senses to pick up quite audibly.

From what he could tell, Bulma was at a completely separate end of the small room than Yamcha. She must have used that table as a barrier between them. It was almost like a principle speaking to a delinquent child who had broken the rules. She sounded stern and unyielding, but at the same time, he could hear pain in her voice.

"I need to know how exactly you are going to do this," came the woman's muffled voice through the door, "because I don't want to get hurt again."

"What is that supposed to mean," Yamcha's voice sounded exasperated, as though he was at the end of his leash and ready to leave.

"I've already lost you Yamcha!" Bulma shrieked, "Many times! To training, to your job on that baseball team… you even died…" her voice trailed off.

"Oh." It was a simple reply from a defeated man.

Vegeta smirked to himself. This was entertaining to him, listening to the pain in their voices. He listened on for a few more moments, and then decided he had heard enough to put him in a very good mood. He would forgive the woman for interrupting his routine. The comedy act was a sufficient compromise.

He went back to the kitchen soon after, and found that his meal was ready. It smelt delicious, and he readily sat at the dingy table to dig in. Just as he did, Bunny sat in the chair next to him, holding a cup of tea in her delicate hands, beaming at him.

"Now, where did you run off to? Your food could have gotten cold had you waited any longer," Bunny cooed to him, "and you left me waiting here too! It's very un-gentlemanly to do such a thing, but I think I will let you off this time." Bunny smiled sweetly as she sipped at her tea.

Vegeta suddenly felt very uncomfortable being at such a close proximity to this woman, who he felt was all over him. Then he realised that he had taken his suit off beforehand, and was only wearing his shorts! Bunny was admiring his strongly sculpted body as she spoke to him. This woman was a nutter to make Vegeta, of all people, feel so insignificant.

He tried to eat slowly as she quietly admired him, but it was no use. After a minute or so, Vegeta stood up from the table and stormed out. It just was not worth it.

_End Chapter 4_


	5. Chapter 5

Bulma was working away happily at one of her many projects in the lab located below her house. She was humming a joyful tune while she soldered circuits of a disposal unit, something that would one day revolutionise waste disposal. It wasn't as fancy as the dragon radar she had created so long ago as a child with her father, but these projects kept her mind busy and the cash flowing. Bulma had expensive tastes, and this was the way they were satisfied. On the other hand, she noted, Vegeta was taking no level of caution in his training activities, which caused a surging channel where money was used to facilitate _his_ needs.

_I wish he had some sense of pride in his surroundings_.

Bulma thought to herself knowingly, as she continued thinking about just how many of her expensive experimental devices she created that Vegeta had destroyed in mere seconds. He was such an ogre.

But this wasn't the time to be wasting thoughts on Vegeta, Bulma was in too good a mood. Just yesterday Yamcha had paid his visit and the two had a long and involved discussion regarding the future of their relationship. Yamcha had promised that once a month he would come and visit Bulma, insisting that he was only doing this so that he could protect her. She almost refused his excuses when he said it, but Yamcha had finally said that he loved Bulma. She had been waiting for this day since her teens, and it had totally caught her by surprise. Before this revelation, Bulma felt very secure on the other side of the large dining table she had nabbed from the kitchen. She had taken it in the first place so that she could separate herself and Yamcha so that she wasn't tempted to reach out and strangle him.

Bulma giggled as her mind flickered to the memory of her sitting in her chair with her mouth agape. After what seemed like an age, she had somehow managed to scramble over the table and into Yamcha's arms. Her face flushed bright pink when her father entered the room in the lab.

"Bulma, dear," he said quietly, trying not to disturb the moment that she was clearly having. Unfortunately this did not work. Instead her arms shot straight upward, sending papers and circuit boards flying. She frowned at her father after she realised what she had done, and she smiled back sheepishly.

"You can fix that later," he said to Bulma, as she tried to pick up the pieces of circuit she had just destroyed.

"No dad, I just spent the past hour on this thing, and I just threw it in the air like a moron!" Bulma's voice was raised, showing her frustration. As she fumbled with her work, Dr Briefs walked towards her and placed his hand on her shoulder. The sudden touch surprised Bulma and she almost lost control of her body a second time, but as she looked up she stopped. She was staring into serious eyes that rarely ever emerged from her father's face. Something had to be up. She loosened her grip on the items on the floor and let them slip through her fingers as she stood up.

"What's up?" she asked inquisitively. Bulma was curious as to what could bring out such a temperament in this man.

"There is something I need you to see." He said simply.

"What?" she asked again.

"You'll see…" and with that he took a loose hold of his daughter's arm and led her into the main part of the building.

Bulma was perplexed at the situation. She had never in her life remembered a time when her father had taken something so seriously. Even in his work, he loved to laze about and take things slowly and joyfully, savouring every moment with his 'partner' Scratch. Now he was dragging Bulma along with him, being very quiet, to somewhere within the house. After a minute or so, she began to realise where they were going. The two headed up a staircase and approached a door.

"Vegeta..?" Bulma whispered quizzically to her father.

He simply pushed on the door, making it slowly glide open. Bulma saw her reflection in the mirror hanging opposite the door, and when she thought it was safe she ventured further in. Vegeta had made it perfectly clear that he wanted no intrusions to his quarters during his stay at the Briefs' abode, so Bulma made sure to stay away from this side of the house. She didn't want to do anything that would cause any arguments worse than those they were already having. As she stepped slowly into the room to peer around the corner blocking her view, she stopped to wonder why she was doing this. Why had her father taken her here?

"What were you doing up here dad? I thought Vegeta said we can't come in here," she asked softly.

"Well I was looking for Scratch," he said. "Silly thing decided to run up here, I think something caught his nose. You know how curious that old cat is." His mood lightened a little. Despite this, Bulma's did not. She looked around herself, checking to make sure no one else was watching. She did not like the idea of being in a hostile situation if Vegeta caught her snooping.

She finally worked up the courage to properly enter the room, and gasped at what she saw. It was absolutely _filthy_. Vegeta was such a pig! The table lamp directly next to Bulma was lying flat with the lampshade upside down next to it. All of the decorative pieces in the room were the same, although some were shattered on the ground. The next big thing Bulma noticed was that Vegeta's bed sheets were all thrown askew, with most hanging off the bed sandwiched between it and the wall; the pillows had been tossed aside as well. It seemed as though he had not used them for a while, if ever. Bulma tiptoed next to the bed, still wary of her presence in this room. She eyed down the sheets and noticed that there were bloodstains spattered all over. She gasped. The only time Vegeta ever bled was when he was seriously injured. She only ever remembered seeing him in such a shape three times: his first encounter with Goku, his struggle against Freiza, and barely two weeks ago when he managed to blow up his training pod and half of a water fountain nearby. Bulma clutched her hand to her mouth.

_Maybe he's not better yet! He didn't take enough time to rest!_

Bulma thought back to when Goku was in the hospital after sustaining such horrendous injuries at the hand of Vegeta. He was in there for almost a whole month, and only left then because Yajirobe gave him a senzu bean! Bulma had thought that Saiyans were superior physically in every way to humans, but perhaps she was wrong. Maybe Vegeta was feigning his 'good health' so that he would not be bothered. Perhaps he didn't want anyone to fuss over him, like it would be an insult to his pride. She pondered this carefully, knowing she would have some tough waters to tread.

As she was thinking, a dash of red the same colour as that on Vegeta's sheets caught Bulma's eye. The blood was on the floor and she knelt down to inspect it. As she did so, she almost thought she could see the outline of Vegeta's body in the weaving of the carpet. She found the spots of blood in the position where his torso would have been., and they were much larger and deeper in colour than the ones on the bed.

She wondered, _could he be spending his time lying here on the floor?_

Bulma shuddered at the thought as she placed her hand on the largest pool of dried blood. She closed her eyes and imagined Vegeta laying there, his chest under her hand, warm to her touch. She felt calm and the thought soothed her, but at the same time she felt a lurch in her stomach. Just thinking of his pain worried her. Bulma never liked to think that someone close to her was in pain, not even Vegeta.

Bulma stood up slowly and motioned for her father, who was standing patiently and unobtrusively by the door, to come and see what she had discovered. When he approached, he seemed quietly surprised at the thought that Vegeta was sleeping on the floor. Why, after all, would anyone put themself through such a thing if they didn't have to? Bulma rested her hands on her hips as she surveyed the room she was in. There must have been some sort of explanation.

Vegeta was obviously a spoiled sort, and probably tossed about the decorations for amusement and left them there for someone else to clean up. Of course, since his threats of death to the housekeeper a month prior, no one had been anywhere near the corridor leading to Vegeta's room, and so the room lay in shambles. If that were the case, then it would be easy to see him avoiding the bed if the sheets were filthy and unmade. Or perhaps his injuries were more strenuous than he had made out, and he simply collapsed every night on the floor, too exhausted to care any longer. Even though they were only theories, the stories sounded plausible enough to Bulma for her to start worrying for Vegeta's wellbeing.

Bulma was feeling a little queasy from the garishness of the room, so she placed her hand on her father's shoulder, indicating to him she was heading to the ensuite adjacent. She decided that washing her face would help make her feel a little better. Unfortunately, her mind was changed the moment she reached the door and turned the handle to peer in.

The very first thing that Bulma noticed was that the bathroom was in a good condition, unlike the room she was still standing in. Everything was in its place, almost as though no one had ever been in there. But Bulma's thoughts were suddenly contradicted by the large pile of bandages lying in the corner of the floor next to the shower, still wet with condensation. Bulma froze. How long had it been since Vegeta was last in here? It couldn't have been any longer than ten minutes ago. Surely, if that was the case, and Bulma had been in the room for about five minutes, Vegeta wouldn't be so far away to not notice that someone was in his room. It was then that her fears were answered.

* * *

"V…Vegeta! I didn't see you there!" came a pathetic gurgle from Dr Briefs. The old man clung his hands together as his whole body began to gently shake with fear. Vegeta simply glared at him.

"And _what_ exactly is it that you think you are doing?" he growled quietly to the doctor. Vegeta had only left a few minutes prior to fetch himself a cold glass of water, thinking that everyone else in the household was at different locations of the complex to him. Bulma, he knew, was working in her laboratory, Dr Briefs was outside gardening, and that man's curious wife was out grocery shopping. Vegeta felt comfortable with all of this, so after his shower he departed his room in a strange white cotton robe that had been hanging on the back of his bathroom door since his arrival. He was curious to see what it was like, and had anticipated that he would only be away from his room for two or three minutes. He had _certainly not_ anticipated that there would be two of the three members of his host family snooping in his room.

"Scratch came up here for some reason, so I had to fish him out!" replied the old man, who was partially telling the truth.

"Then why," Vegeta dropped his voice even more, "did you bring along your foolish daughter?" His eyes moved in the direction of the bathroom, as he caught a glimpse of the door closing. He knew that Bulma was in there hiding, and that the both of these fools knew they were trespassing. And now they would probably flood Vegeta with questions.

Vegeta brought his hand to his face as the doctor stammered to find an excuse. Vegeta was feeling violated in more ways than one, and just wanted them out of there. He trod his way towards the bathroom door and flung it open, hearing the woman's high-pitched scream of shock as she fell to the floor. Apparently she had been leaning on it from the other side. Bulma was too surprised to say anything, but she managed to scramble to her feet and back herself into a corner.

"Vegeta! I'm sorry I came in your room!" her voiced rushed through the words like a well-rehearsed script. She pushed her palms together in front of her head, shaking, and bowed, "I promise I won't come in here again!"

"Of course you won't!" Vegeta bellowed at her, "When I'm through with you, you'll wish you had never even walked past my door!"

Bulma glanced up at him, fright stamped across her face. Then suddenly, as though something had happened to stir her otherwise, her body stopped shaking and she grew stiff. Her eyes slowly grew clearer, as she raised her arm, pointing at Vegeta.

"YOU!" she screamed angrily. This sudden outburst took Vegeta by surprise, and he took a step back. "You liar!"

"What are you on about?" Vegeta yelled back, confused at his situation. He had caught her out, yet he was the one being punished.

Bulma walked up to him confidently and pulled him towards her by the collar of the robe he was wearing. She pushed it back so that she could see Vegeta's exposed chest. His hard tanned body was covered in gashes of a multitude of lengths. They were all open and some were bubbling with fresh blood, although some of the smaller scratches were clotted from freshly dried blood. Vegeta's eyes ran from his chest up to the woman's eyes. They were wide and confident, studying his wounds with ferocity. He was so surprised that he didn't have time to react, and was unsure what would happen next.

Bulma let go of the Prince's robe so that it was hanging around his waist. Before anyone could think of what to say, she stormed into the bathroom and emerged shortly with a handful of bandages she had snatched from the corner of that room.

"You're still hurt!" she yelled at Vegeta. He was still processing what had just happened in his mind, and his motor skills had temporarily shut down. "I thought you had healed Vegeta! This is so foolish of you!"

"Wha-" Vegeta fumbled with his words.

"Yes, what! What would have happened to you if you broke down again like the other day? We had _no idea_ Vegeta! We might not have been able to help you!" Her arms were flailing about as she yelled, and some of the bloody bandages were sent flying across the room.

"I_ don't need your help_!" Vegeta had finally managed to bring coherent speech out from his thoughts. He had said it a great deal louder than all of the sounds that were going on at that moment. The woman had suddenly stopped in the middle of what she was about to say, and the room fell silent. Vegeta was very agitated, and felt extremely violated that these two humans came into his room and went through his personal area. She had even grabbed him forcefully without fear. It was so unlike anything he had ever experienced. He saw her staring at him, and returned the glare tenfold.

"Fine!" she screamed, throwing the remaining bandages at Vegeta and storming out of the room, tears welling up in her eyes.

Dr Briefs was watching hesitantly and carefully turned to hurry after Bulma. Vegeta followed them slowly to the door, where he stopped. He watched as Dr Briefs rushed after his daughter, who was making an awful racket whilst running down the hallway towards a flight of stairs. Vegeta frowned; as he closed the door with enough force to make it slam, but remain on its hinges.

_End Chapter 5_


	6. Chapter 6

_Here you are, a new chapter, with some good plot thickening to boot. Sorry if I get your hopes up, but the story so far is only about 3 weeks into where the last filler episode left off in DBZ. And we've got 3 years to cover. I promise I won't drag it out too much thought._

_Let me know what you think. Enjoy!_

* * *

Bulma sighed. She was having a terrible week. Ever since she had snuck into Vegeta's room and got caught, she couldn't seem to keep her mood at a cheery level. With her newfound discoveries of Vegeta's ill health and the words that were exchanged, Bulma seemed to have an uncontrollable flow of thoughts running through her mind at all times. On one hand, she was furious that the Saiyan was keeping such a significant thing from her, when she could help him, whereas on the other hand, he had uttered the same thing to her as when she was trying to help when he blew up the capsule ship. Here she was, trying to help, and Vegeta was brushing her off like a fly. He didn't have the slightest concern for himself, or others for that matter, and had a remarkable ease in showing this.

Bulma slammed her hand against the desk she was hovering over, repeating the motions she had done just a week prior. Only this time, she was sure to use her left hand. Having smashed her right hand against the metallic panel before had caused a massive hindrance on her work. She needed full use of both hands when she worked on circuit boards and other gadgetry, and found that she was also restricted in day-to-day activities. She looked down at her injured hand, holding her wrist lightly whilst turning it to get a better view. The cut she had sustained was long and smooth, trailing from the middle of the bottom of her palm, angling up to the base of her pinky finger, and was covered in a dark scab. Luckily, the cut was only shallow, and would not eventuate into a scar. She felt relieved at this, as Bulma held a high value in her looks. She had managed to almost reach thirty and still retain most of her girlish looks, and she did not want to have, in her mind, a hideous scarred hand that could restrict her in the future. Her hand wasn't sore anymore, but strenuous use caused it to ache a little, so Bulma tried to restrict her use.

Thinking about her injury made Bulma's mind eventually flicker back to Vegeta and his ones. There she was, worrying about a silly little cut, when Vegeta was clad with gashes over his torso. At least, she hoped that was the only place he was hurt; she didn't have the time or the tenacity to give Vegeta a full inspection. In fact, after argument where she ran off in tears, Bulma had somehow managed to avoid him for seven whole days. She locked herself in her laboratory during the daylight hours stowing food away so she didn't need to emerge until well after midnight when everyone would be asleep. She was completely contained in her own little world down there, and had absolutely no idea of what was happening outside for the past week.

Bulma suddenly felt a pang of guilt as she realised that something dangerous could have happened to Vegeta during that week she was in hiding. Despite the fact that he was a complete caveman when it came to social interaction, Bulma felt responsible for him while he was under her roof. After a few more moments of worrying to herself, Bulma came to the conclusion that her father would notify her if something of great significance had happened, and tried to let go of this train of thought.

_Still,_ she thought to herself, _I'll probably need to address this some time soon, or we may find ourselves in that situation anyway._

She shrugged and sighed again, and slunk into a nearby chair to rest her head on the desk. Bulma was exhausted. She had been working as hard as she could to try to keep her mind off of such things. Even her thoughts of Yamcha weren't able to help her; he was off on some adventure and left her behind. Sure, he promised he would be back for her, but Bulma couldn't be so sure. Last time Yamcha went walkabout, she didn't see him again for three whole years. Sadly, this was the timeframe that they had until the arrival of the androids, which did nothing to comfort Bulma.

* * *

"_I'm sorry, I was just scared," Vegeta whispered into Bulma's ear as he wrapped an arm around her to pull her close. Bulma let her hand rest on his chest lightly, and he noticed that it was bleeding. "What is this?" he asked her softly as he gently grasped her hand, "Did I do this to you?"_

_Bulma tried to pull away, but he didn't let her. "It's nothing," she squeaked._

"_Nonsense, a lady should never have any pain afflicted to her."_

"_Really, I'm okay," Bulma tried to reason with the Saiyan._

"_You fixed up my wounds, so now let me fix yours," he lowered his lips to her palm-_

Bulma shot straight up from her slouched position over the desk, almost falling backwards in her chair. It seemed she had fallen asleep. She looked frantically for the clock on the wall, noting that it was twenty minutes till midnight. She had been asleep for two hours! She wasn't really surprised, as she was running on empty these past couple days. What did surprise her though, was her dream. It was so vivid in her mind that, if she didn't already know that Vegeta was incapable of showing any true emotion apart from anger and fear, she could have gone along with the fantasy. This was all so confusing; as her dream contradicted every waking thought she had ever had of Vegeta. Well… perhaps on rare occasion she would find herself thinking of his well-shaped body and the masculine features of his face…

Bulma shook her head viciously. Perhaps she had been working too hard, and it was time to head off to bed. It was only an hour or so before when she would have left anyway, so she decided to risk it.

As she walked through the corridors, Bulma could tell that her parents were already asleep, but the Saiyan Prince was not. He wasn't training either, so he must have been in his room. She was glad, as their rooms were on different wings of the house, and she wouldn't have to run into him. She began to walk towards her room, taking her usual detour through the library to save time. When she finally reached it, Bulma threw off her work clothes. She noticed that she smelt like the lab, so she decided to take a shower to wash away the day.

The hot water felt good against her body, soothing the aches and pains that came from sitting on a chair and bending over desks all day. Studying schematics was a lot more difficult than it looked, both physically and mentally. It was hard work for Bulma to be constantly innovating for Capsule Corp's clientele, but she often found refuge in the lab, so finding time wasn't difficult. This past week was a good example.

Once she was refreshed, Bulma put on some pyjamas and clambered into her big fluffy bed. It was so comfortable, she could almost feel her body giving a sigh of relief. This was definitely the best part of the end of any day.

* * *

Vegeta knelt down in the capsule pod, the gravity too intense for his body. Despite the protests of Dr Briefs, he continued to increase it every day, and was now straining to work at 500g. The gravity was so strong that's the droids created for his training were too being crippled under the pressure, and their circuit boards were spontaneously frying and combusting, causing small intense explosions of heat within the ship. The combined conditions were too much for Vegeta, as his les buckled and he hit the ground with his knees. It took all of the strength he had left to pull himself towards the middle of the ship to turn off the engine of the machine.

Vegeta's wounds had still not healed in the past week, so his constant exercises were being held back due to his stubbornness. Had he chosen to rest for a few days, the wounds would most likely have had enough time to at least partially reform into normal healed skin. However, Vegeta's mind could only focus on his strength, and his determination to surpass Goku was only too strong for his ego to suppress. With every arm-length that he shifted towards the centre of the ship, he could feel his body ripping. His muscles were being pushed too far, and his body was unable to handle the stress. Vegeta somehow managed to lift his arm over the control panel, where he aimed his palm for the emergency stop button. He just managed to hit it with the side of his hand as it came falling back towards the floor.

_I must see to it that this machine has an easier way to shut off. _He thought to himself. In his mind, he wasn't going to need something so easy, but it was a safeguard that was better there than not. After all, Vegeta didn't want to get another earful if he blew up the ship again. It seemed that even though zapping the core of the engine was easier than hitting a button, the trouble he would get from the Briefs would be too much. Not only for anger towards destroying another ship, but the woman's insatiable coddling to ensure Vegeta was uninjured.

As he thought this, Vegeta noticed inwardly how he had not seen Bulma lately. It was peaceful without her, though he had been too busy with his training to care. Now here he lay on the cracked tiled floor of the pod that her father built, panting heavily from exhaustion, with blood trickling across it. It seemed that when he was left completely alone, when he was able to fully focus on his goals, Vegeta had the tendency to take things too far. He tightened his hands into fists as he tried to climb to his feet, but was unable to. The energy that he had in his body had been completely expended during that last training session, yet it seemed as though he had not come to any climax. In fact, none of the work he had put in towards his training had reached any avail. Yet here he was, completely incapacitated. Just how did Kakarot _do it?_ Vegeta felt his eyes close heavily as his head lolled onto the floor, and everything went black.

* * *

Vegeta's eyes opened with a flash, and he lifted his head back from the ground sharply, unsure of where he was. Despite this, his quick movements caused a strain in his back and neck, causing him to collapse back down. It took a few moments for him to recollect what happened and where he was, and then it hit him. He had passed out from the exhaustion of his body during the training session. How long had he been out?

He tried to lift his head again, and glanced weakly around for the main computer screen, but it seemed that the emergency stop function turned off all electronics. It was only then that Vegeta noticed that he was immersed in complete darkness; not even any light was coming in through the small porthole shaped windows around the side of the pod. It must have been the evening then, which meant he had been out for quite some time. He had only been training for about 3 or 4 hours before he blacked out.

Vegeta knew that he couldn't just stay where he was. It seemed that he had lost a substantial amount of blood while he was out, and due to his seclusion lately, he knew no one would come looking for him any time soon. The fruit of his own pride was ultimately a hindrance for himself. Vegeta tried to gather as much energy as he could and put it into his limbs, as he tried desperately to pull himself up along the side of the control panel in the centre of the ship. Although it took a lot of effort, he finally managed to do it, and he stood propped against the machine as he tried to turn back on the lights. He fumbled with the panel, cursing the fact that he hadn't bothered taking any time to learn the simplest of functions beyond the power and gravity switches. Finally, he was able to thumb the correct buttons and the lights flicked on. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness he was just in, so it took some time to get used to normal light again.

Vegeta stayed rested against the control panel for another few minutes, trying to gather is strength so that he could make his next move – back to the house. At least if he was there, he would be discovered. Right now he was hurting too much to care what others would think, and if they judged him, he would simply threaten their lives. After all, this was not a weakness against any opponent that he was experiencing; Vegeta had inflicted all of this pain on himself, both directly and indirectly. He would just boast that his own strength was far too much for even himself, which meant that no one else would be able to stand a chance. That was the plan, anyway.

Finally, Vegeta saw he was in a "now or never" situation, as he pushed himself off the panel, lunging for the door. He made it in only a few large steps, and pressed the door release. As the steps came down, leading into the garden, Vegeta looked up to see the cold night sky. He could not see any stars because the light pollution from the city was blocking them, but he knew that they were up there. Not his planet though. He clenched his fists once more as he tried to block away any thoughts of Freiza, and began his short travel to the inside of the Capsule Corp house in which the Briefs lived.

It seemed he was in far worse shape than he imagined, as it took him five minutes and several times when he lost control of his legs before he reached the door. He stumbled in, holding onto the frame, and thought that he would rest there, on the floor. He let himself fall to the ground, feeling the icy cold of the tiles against his overheated body, and sighed with relief. He let his lids fall over his eyes, and let himself be taken over by the relief of sleep. However, after only a few minutes, he was disturbed.

The door shut loudly behind her, as Bulma walked through the passageway towards her room. It seemed that she still existed, and was probably avoiding Vegeta, but he didn't care much. She was emerging from her laboratory, most likely to go to bed. She looked sightly agitated and very tired, but that was her own fault for locking herself away like that. At one point, as she walked past him in the hallway, Bulma was only a few metres away from Vegeta, yet she didn't seem to notice him at all.

After a short debate with himself in his mind, Vegeta decided that it would be better to keep the amount of witnesses to his current weak state to a minimum. With this in mind, he made up his mind that he would get Bulma to fix him up, and threaten to her that she had better do it fast and well. After all, with the way he was going, Vegeta wouldn't last another few short days, but he didn't like the idea of resting when he should be out there training.

He pulled himself off the floor there, where he had began to feel quite comfortable, and slowly made his way towards where he thought Bulma's room was situated. He was sluggish and sore, but it was much easier to manoeuvre inside due to walls and furniture that he could hang onto for support. Vegeta did not know any special route to Bulma's room, so he took what would be considered the long way. Together with that and his slow, pained movements, it took him almost a half hour to reach her door.

He could feel her energy, despite its level of almost non-existence. Even in his current state, he was still ten times stronger than her, but Vegeta was in no mood for more conflict. He positioned his body against the door so that when he opened it, he wouldn't fall over. As he grasped the handle, he turned it and violently opened the door.

All of the things he had planned in his mind to say came tumbling down as he felt the last of his energy leave him after that expenditure. Bulma shot up from her bed cowering under her blankets. She let out a piercing scream. Vegeta felt himself fall forwards towards the floor, almost in slow motion, and he remembered hearing the rustle of footsteps approaching him. He felt light hands touch his frail body. With all that was left of him, he said her true name for the first time. It was soft and fragile.

"Bulma…"


	7. Chapter 7

_I think the drama is going to start boiling nicely soon. I can't wait till these two really go head-to-head... that's going to be so much fun!_

_Enjoy!_

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"VEGETA!"

Bulma threw her hands at Vegeta's back, latching onto his shoulders. She tried with all her strength to shake him, or move him, or something but she wasn't strong enough. His body was too heavy for her petite frame; after all, muscles weigh a lot. After a few moments of frantic scrambling, she could feel tears welling up and spilling down her face. This was not something she had counted on ever doing… it was unimaginable.

Only minutes before, Bulma was relaxing in her soft bed after a long tiring day's work. The air was cool against her warm body, and the night was peaceful and calm. She was tired, so it didn't take long for her to begin to feel the effects of slumber on her mind as she began to drift off. Then, out of nowhere, there was a slam of her door. The noise was so close and so loud, and Bulma was too startled to do anything but scream and cower under her sheets. It was like an explosion had gone off, and she feared what could have caused the ruckus. Taking a deep breath and daring to face whatever lay beyond her, Bulma peered out from her covers, to see a familiar face.

Vegeta looked limp and his eyes lacked their usual dark energy. From that very instant, Bulma sensed that something was wrong. Then he fell face-forward into the ground, generating enough force to make her bed jump a few inches in the air. This startled her, so she shrieked again. Once she was confident that she was safe, she shot out of her bed and towards Vegeta. As she scrambled to the ground where he lay, Bulma noticed that his face was buried in the floor, surrounded by a small crater that seemed to envelope his body. Bulma searched frantically for signs of life but to no avail; he didn't seem to be breathing. That was when she tried to turn him over.

Oh, if only she was stronger! She could have spent some time learning a thing or two from Goku, but instead she spent her spare time fiddling with gadgets and reading magazines. That was it! One of her gadgets should probably be able to help her. She had to think quickly, and decided that something with some sort of leverage device would allow her to generate the force needed to lift this brute of a Saiyan. Bulma then stopped in her tracks – she couldn't think of anything she had ever created that could do such a thing. Luckily for her, however, she happened to have a small toolkit in her room, for when she was bored. She pulled it from her closet and rummaged through to find something with a long handle, but she was too late.

An arm suddenly emerged from the ground and used what little force it had to push Vegeta's body up against the door. Now he was sitting upright, though it seemed he was quite uncomfortable. He was breathing now, though it was through heaving sighs, and the sight made Bulma freeze again. She dropped her toolkit and took a second to process that Vegeta was still in control of his body… at least a little. She crawled over to him carefully, as though he were a wild beast that was easily startled.

"Vegeta?" she whispered. There was no response, merely short hard breaths. His eyes were closed in what looked like pain, as he rested his head backwards onto the door. "I'm going to turn on the light so I can get a better look at you," it was times like these that Bulma was glad she knew how to look after injuries. That was one thing she didn't waste time learning whilst with Goku.

Bulma shuffled back to her bed and found her table lamp. She decided that the room light would be too harsh for Vegeta, and wanted to start with something dimmer. As she flicked on the switch, the low light flooded the nearer corners of her room, including the Saiyan posted by her door. She gasped silently as she studied him. Most of his training suit was completely torn away, showing his badly wounded physique. This was much worse than the week prior when she had been caught in his room. Now the gashes were larger and more numerous, and there was a blood trail on the floor. He was losing blood fast, and she had to do something.

Because Vegeta was resting on her door, Bulma couldn't move him to go get some help; she was on her own. Thinking quickly again, Bulma ran for her medicine cabinet in her bathroom where, luckily, she had some iodine and gauze. Although she had the knowledge and ability to fix him up, Bulma had not anticipated that the Saiyan would be so difficult to work with. Even in his unconsciousness, Vegeta fussed and struggled every step of the way, and although it was only weakly, it was still enough to heavily burden Bulma.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Bulma had managed to wrap up Vegeta's scrapes and grazes. She leaned back from her kneeling position to sit on the floor properly and sighed. A light sheen of sweat traced her hairline, and she used her forearm to wipe it off. When Bulma looked back up at Vegeta, she could tell that his breaths were a lot steadier, and it seemed as though his body was managing a little better. Bulma gave herself a small sigh of relief, it was like she was looking after a big cat or something; she felt the need to be cautious throughout every interaction, yet was so tempted to try to get close. She risked reaching her hand gently to his forehead, testing his temperature. Although her hand was warm, her touch was cold to Vegeta's skin, causing him to hiss quietly. Startled, Bulma pulled back her hand. Perhaps it was better if she just leave him be for now.

She stood up quietly, feeling a twinge of pain as pins and needles shot up her legs. She hated when her legs fell asleep on her, it happened often whenever she was sitting on the ground. She tottered up to her bed and climbed back in, glancing at her alarm clock. No wonder she was so tired – the time read 2:11am. With a quick glance at the sleeping Prince by her door, she rested her head on her pillow. Within a few short minutes, she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The bright lights of the early morning began to peek into Bulma's bedroom at around 6am, gently creeping its way through her blinds and into the room. Although this was when she usually awoke to start her busy day, Bulma had unintentionally left the alarm off with the confusion of the previous night. She was also very exhausted, so she was in no hurry to wake up any time soon. That was something she enjoyed about being her own boss.

Soon, the light reached such a point that it was glaring onto Vegeta's face, causing him to stir. When he surfaced to consciousness, it took a moment to realise where he was and what had happened. His body ached tremendously, and he stiffly lowered his head downwards, opening his eyes to investigate why he was in so much pain. With a loud gasp, he saw that his torso was almost completely covered in red-tinged bandages. Undoubtedly, he was shocked, and he quickly searched his surroundings for the meaning of his situation. After just a few seconds, Vegeta noted that he was sitting upright, slouched against the door of a bedroom, where someone was sleeping in the bed only metres away from him. But… this was not his room. This room was brightly decorated for a more feminine taste.

Vegeta suddenly realised that he was in _Bulma's_ room. He quickly clamped his jaw shut, preventing him from letting out another loud gasp. _What was he doing here? Why was he so badly wounded?_ His body felt sticky against the bandages, which could only mean that he had been bleeding onto them. Vegeta racked his mind for some sort of explanation, but he was still feeling very weak and quite dizzy. Fuzzy images came to him, suggesting that he had come to Bulma for help due to his deteriorating status, but surely he had more pride in himself than to do that. What was this world coming to, if Vegeta had to turn to a lowly human for help?

Vegeta let out a silent sigh as he tried to pull himself to his feet, with the help of the door on which he was leaning. It pained him greatly, although he could not express it due to his need to not cause Bulma to awake. If this happened, surely she would take pity on him – pity he neither wanted nor needed. He could look after himself, and would do so unattended and un-hassled by such meagre beings. However, it took only a few moments for Vegeta to realise that leaving this room in his condition would be nothing short of a feat in itself. It was a quarter of an hour before he finally managed to get himself down the hallway and out of audible range.

Vegeta had tried to alter the appearance of Bulma's room slightly before he had left; he managed grab the iodine and bandages and take them with him, as he made it look as though he was never there. Hopefully, the stupid woman would think that this was all just a bad dream. Unfortunately for Vegeta, however, he knew that she would not give up so easily. It would take a miracle for all of his wounds to heal so quickly so that he could prove her 'mental instability'. For now he decided that it would be best to just hide away in his room. If anything, at least she wouldn't have the courage to enter, and she wouldn't bother him with her foolish ideas.

Vegeta sighed inwardly. Why did he feel that he had to go to such trouble just to keep someone away? Only a few years before he was one of the galaxy's most feared beings – no one ventured too close unless they had good reason to.

It was another ten minutes before Vegeta had finally reached his allocated room, and he had by then decided that limping was not his preferred method of travel.

_Perhaps, _he thought to himself, _I should take a break from my training._

Even thought it pained him to even think of such a thing, Vegeta knew deep down that in this state he would have enough trouble getting to the pod, let alone training in it. He thought that perhaps a shower would help wash away some of his troubles as well as other things, so he hobbled over to the en-suite. He noticed in the mirror, once there, that the bandages were bright pink now, which was quite a dramatic difference compared to merely a half an hour before. Anxious to remove the unnecessary burden of bindings across his chest, he tore them all off at once, only to be met with a surprise that he had not anticipated. Blood was pouring viscously from almost every gash on his torso – the bandages were keeping everything together. Vegeta could feel his energy draining with the blood, which was slowly dripping away onto the tiled floor, and it was not long before he followed suit. His legs gave in and he fell in a heap on the cold floor.

Vegeta hated feeling weak. What he hated more, though, was that he had done this to himself.

* * *

The sun shone across Bulma's eyes, which sent a wake-up call for her; she was usually up before the dawn. She jumped in her bed, as she noticed the time on her clock: 7:32am. Bulma was shocked. It had been so long since she had overslept like this, and she would normally be completely refreshed. However, she was still tired, and her body ached all over. He hand was throbbing in pain too, as she remembered struggling so hard to try to wrap up Vegeta's wounds. She wished that she hadn't cut it like that…

"Vegeta!" She suddenly shot upright, and then moved to kneel on the end of her bed, facing the door. He wasn't there. Immediately Bulma knew something was up. The night prior she _knew_ that she had stayed up late looking after _Stupid _Saiyan, so where had he gone? And what was more, she was sure that she had forgotten to put away the stuff she used because she was so tired, yet it was nowhere to be seen. She was so _confused_.

_Where did he go? I swear he was in trouble last night! _She thought to herself, _but… if that's the case, what happened to Vegeta?.._

Bulma sat a little more comfortable on her bed and sighed. Had it all just been a dream, like the other one she had?_ It all seemed so… real. _She looked down at her sore hand. She couldn't be imagining this, there was just no way.

_But how had this even happened in the first place?_ She stopped there. She knew there was only one way to find out what was really going on, and that was to get it straight from the horse's mouth. After quickly dressing into something more appropriate, Bulma took a deep breath and marched towards Vegeta's room.


	8. Chapter 8

_In a writing mood, so I decided to experiment a little with my narrative style. I appreciate any reviews, as it help me know if I'm doing something right. The whole point is so that this is enjoyable for not only myself, but also anyone reading this._

_Enjoy the drama!_

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* * *

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Drip… drip… drip…

His head was fuzzy clouded by the memories of the few times that he had been struck down, a victim of someone else's maniacal triadic rampage. The haunting cackles of laughter. Although he only experienced it few times, it was something that he feared the most.

Drip… drip…

Bright flashes filled his mind, of energy beams being blasted across a smoky sky. Dust and dirt and debris everywhere, rock being hoisted out of the ground to form extravagant craters. Blinding lights and blood curdling screams.

Drip…

A warm sensation beneath his skin, flooding his body, soon becoming a feeling of cold. A feeling of terror, as an icy dark void overcomes him. His eyes wide open, watching the movements of fleeing bodies, weak and helpless, destined to be eliminated.

Dr…

There he was, enshrouded in his own weakness, his own helplessness. But there was no tyrannous being hovering above, and there was no epic battle that caused the deformation of a fertile land. There was only him and the void… he was slipping.

…ip.

BANG.

Vegeta's eyes shot open, his heart being jolted back into its normal rhythm. The sudden noise was so loud, so close, and he had been so peaceful. The asphyxiating calm had left him, and he began to feel once again the throbbing pulsations of his heart, desperately trying to pump blood throughout his body. It was failing though, as the viscous red fluid was not reaching his cells inside, but instead dripping onto the cold tiled floor below.

He brought his hands up to his face as best as he could, but found that his current strength meant that this distance was just off the ground. Nonetheless, Vegeta managed to see his palms facing him through squinting eyes. They were bright red, and the substance on his skin was falling through his fingers, trickling down his arm like feeble waterfalls. He was in no state to be able to begin to comprehend what was happening, as it was only once before that he had truly felt his body shut down – and that blast from Freiza was not nearly as messy as this.

Vegeta's mind wandered slowly in darkness, admiring the rich red scenery along the way. He was so out of sorts that he didn't know he wasn't alone until he felt a numb sensation on his cheek. He looked up, and saw through his blurry eyes that a beautiful being donning blue hair was hovering above him. She was holding her hand weakly, from what turned out to be an attempt to slap him into consciousness. It seemed that he was far too hardheaded, and she was the only one that felt anything. She was moving too fast for his vision to properly make out, and the effect was psychedelic. Her arms seemed to move in a long trail on either side of her, and the bright colours around her swirled together.

In reality, Bulma was freaking out, kneeling next to the collapsed Saiyan, who seemed to have expelled half of his blood onto the bathroom floor. It seemed almost as though she had walked into a crime scene, where the victim's body lays sprawled across the ground with blood all around. Her initial reaction was to run up to him, and she soon realised that he was alive… barely. With all of her fussing about over him, Bulma and Vegeta were soon drenched in the metallic scented blood, but Bulma did not care. She had already learned the night prior that it was no good for her to attempt shifting him on his own, but she knew that he needed urgent medical attention. The lucky thing about being a genius scientist with work being at home was that the family had their own small medical wing attached to one of the laboratories. She knew that it wasn't far, especially compared to the nearest hospital, and there she would be able to keep a close monitor on everything. He problem, however, was that she needed a way to move him. In desperation, she left Vegeta's side for a moment to run to the telephone in his room. From memory, she keyed in the number of the man she trusted the most.

* * *

The phone rang. "Come on, come on!" Bulma said to herself impatiently as she listened to the ringer from the handset at her ear. It rang out for a while longer, when Bulma went to set the phone down in defeat.

"Hello?" came a familiar voice from the other end. Bulma let out a happy exhale as she lifted the phone back to her ear.

"I thought you weren't going to pick up!" she exclaimed.

"Babe, I always pick up for you," Yamcha's tone was relaxed and playful.

"I'm sorry to bother you with your training, but how far are you from the city?" Bulma said, her seriousness letting Yamcha know the call was important.

"Not far actually…" he paused, "To be perfectly honest, I haven't even left yet."

"You haven't even left the city? _Yamcha it's been a whole week_-" she suddenly stopped herself. Bulma knew that this was neither the time nor place to be starting an argument about this. Vegeta was in the next room with barely any pulse, covered in his own blood. "Never mind. Come over here right now. Drop _everything. _It's an emergency."

She hit the handset onto the cradle with a loud click, knowing that Yamcha would get the picture. Right now, she had to do what she could to keep Vegeta breathing. Of all of her experiences from growing up with Goku and Yamcha, and all of her encounters with evil forces (Vegeta included in that category), she had _never_ anticipated for a second that she would be in situation such as this.

_I guess this is what he gets for being so stubborn,_ she sighed to herself.

* * *

Twenty minutes had passed since Bulma's phone call when a ring came from the doorbell. Bulma had waited patiently by Vegeta's side for the entirety of the span of time, and had managed to get him back to a somewhat regular pulse. However, the worse was far from over, and the situation was not being helped by her increasing ire at Yamcha's tardiness.

After five minutes of waiting, she had managed to catch the attention of her mother, who was making her early morning cleaning rounds of the house, and tried to lightly explain the situation. This was futile, though, as Bunny spent the whole time staring at Bulma's saturated sweats questioning if she had been drinking too much wine. Naturally, this occurred just outside of Vegeta's room, as Bulma didn't want her mother to have to see the massacre in the bathroom. After much sidetracking, Bunny eventually agreed to watch the door and send Yamcha up to this part of the house.

She had then run back to Vegeta's side after grabbing the linen from his bed, and began trying to mop up his spilled blood. The bleeding had slowed significantly as his heartbeat slowed down, and his breathing became steadier. Bulma knew from her compulsory first aid training that any normal person would have died of blood loss after just a couple minutes, but there she sat next to Vegeta, who showed no sign of giving up. She reflected to herself in this short time watching over the Saiyan, that he was just like this. Vegeta always strived to be the best, even if that meant struggling against all odds to become the victor. In fact, this was the attitude that had put him in this situation. Vegeta didn't know when to stop, and it became his downfall…

She then sat silently in horror of the realisation she just had. She had been purposely avoiding Vegeta for a whole week since their last confrontation. Vegeta, although witty and cunning, had the mindset of a pack mule: he would keep going until something killed him. Now, here they were, and Bulma knew in her mind that if she had been around the past week, Vegeta would now be strong enough to make a nasty remark and continue with his work. She felt as responsible as a mother to a sick child. Then came the doorbell, which snapped her out of her trance. Self-loathing would have to wait for now.

* * *

Yamcha stepped into the bathroom entrance shortly, making an audibly disgusted reaction. Bulma knew that he wasn't the best person for gruesome situations, usually taking flight before any major fight, so she felt it was a good decision to try to clean up a little before he arrived. Although there was still a pool of blood, Vegeta was no longer submerged in the liquid. His skin was tinged and his pants stained red, but it was far less sickening than the sight Bulma had originally walked in upon.

"What… happened?" Yamcha stammered, "If I didn't see Freiza destroyed with my own eyes, I'd think he made a house call."

"Lets not waste time on trying to be funny," Bulma hissed, "I need you to carry him to the medical wing downstairs."

"Me? Carry him?" Yamcha pointed down at Vegeta's limp body in protest. "_That's _what you called me for?"

Bulma was in such a horrible mood as it was, and she didn't need any back sassing from her boyfriend. She stood up and raised herself on her toes to try to close the height gap between them.

"Do you expect me to be able to do it myself, Yamcha!" she shrieked.

"No, but-"

"I _know_ you don't like Vegeta. I know he was the cause of your death. But guess what? _You_ are alive, and _he_ is d…" she couldn't make herself say it. Her eyes filled like a bowl of water, and tears began to fall for the first time of the day. She was completely overwhelmed with everything that had happened, and she was only just beginning to accept possible consequences. She felt so responsible.

"I get it, I get it," Yamcha sighed, resting a hand compassionately on Bulma's shoulder, before retracting it again after realising she was covered in Vegeta's blood.

"I can't just leave him Yamcha," Bulma managed to squeak. "I know deep down he's a good person."

Yamcha bent down in response to Bulma's pleas, scooping up Vegeta's body hastily. He wasn't going to argue the point. As much as he hated Vegeta, Yamcha didn't want the guy to die. He looked down at the Saiyan in his arms. Vegeta seemed so weak all of a sudden; it was a side Yamcha was sure not many people had seen ever before. In a way, this was a sort of privilege, but it made him wander on thoughts of his own mortality. After all, Vegeta was one of the strongest fighters in the universe. Compared to the Saiyan Prince, Yamcha was nothing. He hated to think this, but knew that he lacked everything that Vegeta had. The very potential itself to be a truly great warrior, which was necessary to even begin to unlock any hidden powers, was something that Vegeta and only few others possessed. Yamcha knew that he was mediocre since meeting Goku, but refused to believe it for most of his life. This moment he was standing in was one that began an awakening for him to all of his denials. As much as it pained him to think it, Yamcha knew Vegeta was better in every way.

"Bulma," Yamcha cooed, as he slowly carried Vegeta out of the room. She nodded to him as she followed, showing he had her attention. "Promise me you won't fall for a monkey like Vegeta."

Bulma then took the lead, so Yamcha couldn't see her physical reaction. She said nothing, which he took for as a silent agreement, and for the first time since what felt like an eternity, Bulma smiled.


	9. Chapter 9

_I know it's a short chapter, but hopefully after you read it you'll forgive me. I want this to be a chapter in itself, as the plot development here is quite important. (That's how I see it anyway)._

_Anyway, enjoy this installment. I hope it provokes the reaction intended. As always, let me know what you think!_

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BEEP.

The sliding doors to the laboratory Bulma was so fond of made a loud noise as they moved open to let the trio inside.

"This way," Bulma said, as she led Yamcha down a wide corridor. It was white and stark, which made it a very different sight compared to Bulma's house. Naturally, being under her home, the lab had no way of utilising natural lighting, so the bright and pale minimalist approach made it easier to project light throughout the rooms. However, Yamcha knew nothing of this. He had spent many years with Bulma, and even lived here for a long while, but had never dared to come down to the lab. In his mind, this was Bulma's special place, and he felt insignificant compared to all the brilliant things her mind must accomplish down here – it frightened him slightly. It was, in its own right, the same reasoning that Bulma had when it came to everyone's training time; she couldn't possibly be able to even begin to comprehend what they must go through, so she just stayed out of their way. For the most part, anyway.

At the end of the corridor, they came to a large white door with a keypad beside it. Bulma punched in an intricate code and the door, after beeping like the others, opened to let the trio in. Inside was dark at first, but once Bulma stepped inside the automatic fluorescent lights flickered on. What Yamcha saw was mind-boggling. The room had to have been at least a hundred square metres, consisting of benches, trays and strange machinery, with a bed to one side of it. It was a cross between a hospital ward and an operating theatre, as though it could have been two separate rooms with the adjoining wall demolished to join them. He was amazed at just how high-tech it was, as he was still, admittedly, highly impressed by how dynocaps were used in daily life as easy storage of usually large and heavy things. He couldn't see any dynocaps in here though, the room glittered silver against the white background that the paintwork provided. It was dazzling.

Bulma told Yamcha to lay Vegeta on top of the bed, as she trotted over to the phone, picking up the receiver.

"Yes dear?" came the answer after a quick dial and a couple rings.

"Dad," Bulma said with conviction, "Vegeta's gotten himself into some trouble, can you come over to the medical wing and check him out?"

"Sure thing," he replied, "I'll be there as soon as I'm finished with this."

Bulma put one hand on her hip, the other still holding the phone, "I don't think he can wait, it's pretty serious."

"I understand. Just let me finish writing something down, and I'll be right there."

Bulma rested the receiver back into its cradle and turned towards the bed as Yamcha struggled to rest Vegeta on it. Of course, it was no real conflict for the man; Bulma knew that Yamcha was just putting on a show of his distaste for the Saiyan. Despite her knowledge of past events and the horror show that Vegeta had put on for Bulma and her friends, she knew that he wasn't that evil being anymore. He had already stayed at her place for a year now, occupying himself with his training for a rematch with Goku, and she had already noticed how much he had changed since their time on Namek. In that short amount of time Vegeta had begun to show restraint in himself towards people he would have otherwise simply blasted away, and he was slowly learning that his status of royalty on destroyed planet meant nothing on this one. Although his power was growing with every day that he progressed through, she felt that he was also letting his heart grow too. Or in the very least, his patience. It was almost as though he was becoming domesticated. Vegeta, the big pussycat.

Bulma giggled to herself softly as she rummaged through a cupboard for some hospital grade disinfectant and proper bandages. _This time_, she thought to herself,_ Vegeta won't be able to rid himself of them so easily._ He was flat on the bed by the time she walked over to it with her tray of 'goodies', with Yamcha standing in the far corner of the room with his arms crossed. He didn't seem pleased to see the attention of his girlfriend focused on his enemy. He shifted his feet and made impatient grunts as he watched Bulma set down the tray on a trolley and pull up a chair by the bed. She looked up at him with a frown, questioning his discontentment.

"What's your problem?" she shot at him.

"I don't see why you're helping him," Yamcha furrowed his brows and looked down at his crossed arms.

"I don't see why you're so keen to _not_ help. Aren't you supposed to be one of the good guys?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I _am_ a good guy! He's not!"

"Hey, Vegeta _is so_ a good guy-" Bulma began.

"He's not! He struts around the place like he owns it, Mr. "Prince of all Saiyans." He doesn't care about anyone but himself."

"He's changed."

"He killed me!" Yamcha raised his head, glaring towards Bulma. She eyed him back furiously.

"That was almost two whole years ago! And he _didn't_ kill you. He didn't get the chance! You got _blown up_ by a little green man! I saw it with my own eyes on worldwide broadcast television. Everyone saw it!" Bulma was yelling now.

"That's going too far Bulma!" Yamcha took two steps forward, an arm raised to point at her. "You know that's not fair!"

Bulma responded by shooting out of her chair and moving a couple steps towards Yamcha, her anger unrestrained as she filled the entire room with her voice. "And you're not being fair Yamcha! You're not being fair to anyone! Why are you still _even here_!"

"What is that supposed to mean?" he took a step back in confusion.

"You know all too well what I mean! We spent an entire afternoon trying to work out how this relationship is going to last with you out training for three years! That was _a week ago_. You were meant to leave that day so you could get stronger. _Why are you still here!_"

Bulma's voice left a stinging echo in the bright room, and Yamcha was lost for words. His raised arm had coiled back towards his body, and he was in a stance that would normally be used in a fight to block an attack. His mouth was agape. He was hoping she wouldn't notice this small detail.

"Well… spit it out!" Bulma threw her hands in the air before letting herself fall back into the chair beside the bed. She knew that he had a weak excuse, and she almost couldn't be bothered listening to it. She was almost at the point where she didn't care anymore.

"Well… you see… uh…" Yamcha stammered, ruffling his hair with one hand, "I… um…"

"Yamcha…" she was growing more impatient with every second that he tried to stall. She had known his for too long to fall for any tricks he might try to pull. He lowered his hand and gave a sorrowful glance at her.

"I got offered a position for pitcher-" he was suddenly cut off by a loud shriek.

"_BASEBALL!_" Bulma jumped out of her seat once again, this time striding right up to Yamcha to yell in his face. "I thought it was some girl or something, how it always is, but _baseball_? You said you were only doing _that_ for the money!"

"Yeah well… that's sort of the case now too…" Yamcha wore a defeated look on his face and hoped that the onslaught would end quickly so that he could say how sorry he was and make Bulma stop yelling. Unfortunately for him, however, Bulma was far from finished.

"Here you are, one of the strongest people in the world, with a _mission_ to take down an evil threat that looms in the future to save the world, and you're worried about _money_? God Yamcha! If it mattered to you so much, then why did you move out of here? You wanted your own space, and you got it, even thought it practically _ruined_ our relationship. Then I waited _half a year_ to bring you back from _the dead_, and you still wanted your space!" Unbelievably, Bulma's voice was growing louder with every word she spat. It reverberated across the large room and filled Yamcha's ears deafeningly. "You know I have money, and you've been welcome here since you ever came to this city, yet you stray away and complain about your problems. You're so weak, it's pathetic."

"Hey, I'm not pathetic," he tried to intervene, but it was in vain. Bulma's words flooded over his so that he was inaudible.

"Look at Vegeta over there! He's lying on that bed from self-inflicted injuries because he is so desperate to become stronger. He has been in that makeshift training pod every day since that guy from the future told us about the androids, working himself to the point of near death. And he's not that much of a pushover, _and you know it._ _He's_ doing something to try to save the world, and when he first came here he tried to destroy it! I think that I would say that he has certainly _changed_. So you look me in the eyes and tell me that he's the bad guy, when you're running around playing baseball! No wonder you hate him so much, he's so much _better_ than you!"

"He is _not_ better than me!" Yamcha bellowed. Bulma was finished, and she marched back to the chair and sat down, panting. Yamcha was deeply hurt by what Bulma had said, and denied every word of it. "I'm not going to stand here and let you say these things to me," he said in a low, pained tone.

"Then leave." Bulma curtly replied.

Yamcha turned towards the door and made his way to it swiftly.

"Yamcha," he turned at her voice. It had changed to something much calmer, almost affectionate. He had his hand on the door as he moved to face Bulma, seeing her reach her hand to rest on Vegeta's. Her attention was focused on Vegeta as she began to disinfect his arm. She had her head turned away from Yamcha so that he couldn't see her face, as tears began to well up, but she kept her voice well composed. Her words were soft, the way she would lovingly speak to him when they spent a happy day together. This made it all the more bone-chilling for Yamcha as he heard her finish.

"Don't come back."


	10. Chapter 10

_Note: This chapter has been changed from it's original form, as I felt that some of the ideas expressed don't fit properly into my events._

_If you have already read this prior to the changes, please post a review to let me know if you like this better._

_Enjoy.  
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"Vegeta! Vegeta, calm down! It's only me. It's Bulma! I'm trying to help you!"

Bulma was having a hard time trying to work at bandaging Vegeta's body. Although he was still unconscious, whenever the stinging disinfectant passed over the larger cuts on his chest, his body lunged forward as though his organs were trying to leap out of his chest. The movements were fierce, almost violent, although they seemed completely out of any sort of norm for him. Usually, it took the strongest force to cause Vegeta to show any sign of pain, as Bulma knew only too well. How long had he been seriously injured and just suffering through all of it due to his ego? Perhaps he had done this intentionally. After all, Bulma did remember something that was exchanged in casual conversation about Saiyans growing stronger after injury. _Maybe_ this was just a ploy to speed up the process of ascension.

These thoughts rattled through Bulma's mind, distracting her from other stimuli. This was good, as it had not even been an hour since she had dismissed Yamcha from her presence, and she was still shaken by all of this. Of course, she had seen this coming long ago, but she still hoped their relationship could have been salvaged. Her mind was miles away in its own little world, as she dabbed and cleaned Vegeta's cuts and scrapes without any more particular interest in his flinches.

"Bulma?" came a soft call from directly behind her.

The sudden sound was intensely shocking for her, and she jumped in the air, spilling the whole bottle of disinfectant right on top of her head. She let out another shriek at this, before turning around. Laughing immensely at this sight was her father, who moments ago had entered the room whilst Bulma was too preoccupied in her thoughts to notice. As usual, he had taken advantage of the worst possible time to enter, where 'quickly writing something down' meant an hour before he would arrive.

"Oh my! Goodness Bulma, is that you? I didn't recognise you, and thought you might be an intruder!" Dr Briefs gasped between breaths, his little black cat dangling from his shoulder as always.

Bulma looked down at herself, and for the first time since waking up took notice in her appearance. No wonder her father was laughing so hard, although the theatrics didn't do much to subdue his reaction. At the beginning of that morning she had put on white shorts and a yellow t-shirt, which now looked absolutely nothing of the sort. Because she knelt by Vegeta's side to help him in the bathroom, all of the blood around his body had clung to hers, and her legs were encrusted in dried blood. Her shorts were blotches of bright red and pink, and her shirt had somehow turned a putrid greenish orange; she was sure the stains would never come out. Bulma gelt her face distort in disgust at herself, as she raised her hands to her face. She had subconsciously put on gloves before doing anything in this room, but she had not bothered to rinse off her hands or arms, which here also red from dried blood. It was like something out of a horror movie.

"Aaaaaaah!" She let out a blood-curdling scream. Bulma always took pride in her beauty, and never expected she would be scrubbing blood from underneath her fingernails. "Dad, you watch Vegeta, okay? I'll be right back!"

She bolted out of the room before there was any sign of recognition from her giggling father, and she left him standing there. She ran as fast as she could through the lab and up to the house, making her way to her room. She needed a shower, _desperately_.

_Vegeta can wait_, she thought to herself, _after all, he's strong enough… or at least he thinks he is anyway. But me, what is this world coming to when a beautiful woman is denied the bare necessities!_

_

* * *

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Dr Briefs was sitting in the chair beside Vegeta with his head resting atop a balled fist, brows furrowed in deep thought, when Bulma returned. She was clean now, donning a fresh new outfit, and smelling strongly of perfume. She even took the time to straighten her hair out from the loose curls she had sported for the past month. In all, she was gone for a little under an hour, which gave Dr Briefs plenty of time to contemplate the situation.

"Sorry I took so long, I had to scrub extra hard to stop myself turning pink!" She shuddered to herself, "Eww yuck I never want to be like _that_ again. Sorry Vegeta, but I don't think you're worth all the trouble you make!" She was in a much better mood now, giggling at her own joke, when she saw her father unmoving from his stance. "What's up dad?" she asked.

"I was just thinking about Vegeta," he murmured, "did you ever suspect that this may be self-inflicted?" He looked up at Bulma, who was wide eyed. She walked over to him and pulled up another chair.

"Well, to be honest, the thought did cross my mind. After all, isn't that how Saiyans are supposed to get stronger?"

"That was precisely what I was thinking."

"Only," Bulma paused, "it doesn't seem like the sort of thing Vegeta would do… it's kind of like cheating."

"I see."

A deep silence fell as both generations let their eyes trail towards Vegeta's physique lying on the bed. He was much calmer now, and it seemed that Bulma's father had finished up the bandages while she was gone, and attached a drip so that he wouldn't dehydrate. He was much better at this sort of thing than Bulma, what with all of the stray animals he'd taken off of the road and helped nurture back to health. He could have been a doctor, but ended up helping mankind in a much different way. Dr Brief was certainly someone that Bulma could be proud of.

"So…" Bulma broke the silence after a while, running her fingers through her newly straight hair, "any ideas?"

"Hmm… maybe," came the reply. Bulma looked up at her father to see him thinking intently once again. "Perhaps he needs another facility."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well… if these wounds weren't self-inflicted, then it is a cause of Vegeta overworking himself to exhaustion, and then injury. What if the space ship that he spends all of his time in is too small, and is indirectly causing all of this unnecessary damage?"

"But, Goku trained in there just fine," Bulma interjected.

"Yes, but that was during his trip to Namek. He wasn't even in there for a week. Vegeta, on the other hand…"

"Has spent the better part of a year in there…" Bulma finished.

"Exactly."

Bulma let this new wave of information flow over her for a moment. Perhaps none of this was her fault after all; Vegeta had simply outgrown the pod. It made sense once she thought about it. He was throwing massive amounts of energy all over the place at intense levels of gravity in such a confined space. No wonder he was so badly hurt, he had nowhere to escape to if the slightest thing went amiss. A huge wave of relief hit Bulma then, and she knew that if she could, she would try to ensure nothing like this ever happened again.

"What do you have in mind dad?" she finally let out.

"Something along the lines of an extended chamber with extra safety protocols for enhanced manoeuvrability," he suggested to Scratch, who was resting on his lap. Scratch looked up sleepily before resting his head down again. "Hmm… perhaps that's not it," he said to himself.

"No dad, that is it!" Bulma exclaimed. "A gravity _room_!" She let thrust her fist down onto the edge of the bed in triumph at the idea, causing it to shake sightly.

Despite all of the noise and commotion that had been going on in the past couple hours since he passed out, something had caused Vegeta to stir to consciousness.

* * *

He couldn't breathe. As hard as he tried, Vegeta couldn't take in any air. He could feel his lungs begin to burn up inside as he frantically flailed around, his arms weakly bringing his hands to his throat. Though there was nothing restricting his airway, he couldn't seem to relieve the painful sensation. He let his eyes open slowly, noticing that the light was dim, as though something was blocking it out. Then it hit him. He was under water!

Although he was still dazed from being knocked out, Vegeta struggled to gain his bearings. Looking up, he saw a faint light, which seemed to be coming from the surface. He flapped his arms and legs to swim towards it, to no avail. His legs were heavily clamped against a chain that was buried deep in the seabed. The lack of oxygen was beginning to make Vegeta's head spin as he tried to pry apart the thick metal links, but sludge from the sediment below him began to rise like a dark serpent, coiling over his legs in a heavy blackness that slowly engulfed him.

The scene faded to nothingness as this unknown darkness filled the spectrum around him. A twang of despair struck him, and he felt himself struggling harder than before to try to free himself of this void. The water had grown thicker, and he found it harder to move in the viscous fluid, and although he could take it into his lungs, they felt no relief. He had been under for about a minute now, and Vegeta was beginning to feel light-headed. Suddenly a sound penetrated the thick dark liquid, something that was strangely familiar. He darted his head around wildly to seek the source of the sound, when he saw him. Kakarot was standing above him, looking down as he tried so aimlessly to free himself of his bindings. Vegeta could find no escape, and he saw through blurred eyes his opponent's face twist and distort into a ghastly grin. An arm positioned over Vegeta's head, and a bright light began to glow from Kakarot's hand. Suddenly it filled the darkness, blinding him.

"NOOO!" Vegeta shouted, jolting upright from the bed he was laying in, his eyes unable to focus on anything. All he could see was white.

Vegeta could hear shuffling around him, and he instinctively tried lifting an arm to defend himself. However, he found that he could barely move his arm, which felt as though it had been heavily bound. After a few failed attempts at shaking whatever it was off, he instinctively moved for his other limb, which was in the same predicament. In fact, all of his body felt bound, like something was constricting him at every instance, constraining his airway, as his heavy breathing became short and sharp from the pain.

"Where am I?" he shot out to nothing in particular, though he knew that someone was watching him, "Who are you? What do you want from me?"

Vegeta's words were tongue-tied, as his mind had not yet fully established consciousness. He had, after all, lost an immense amount of blood, and was now suffering the side effects of this. It was as though he was in a living nightmare. He tried to move off of the pedestal that he was sitting on, and found himself a second later a crumpled heap on the floor. The noises were still around him, and he felt something warm touch his body. Vegeta flared his energy with his anger, sending the entity away from him. He tried to stand up, but instead doubled over in pain. Something on his hand had him tied captive.

He reached for the instrument on his hand, discovering that some sort of tube was protruding from it. He grasped it and ripped it out of his skin with a grunt. He could feel cool liquid on his skin. What were they doing to him? Why couldn't he remember anything?

Vegeta noticed that his eyes were beginning to accustom to his surroundings, and he spotted two figures in the corner of the room. He slowly gathered his bearings, rushing towards them with a fearsome growl, but could only walk a couple steps before collapsing again. It was here that he stopped, for he was unable to breathe any longer, and he felt his body curl itself into a ball, as he reached once again for his throat with his hands.

"Calm down Vegeta!" came a shrill voice from one of the figures. "You're in shock, you need to calm down!"

He had no intention of calming down, especially not since they knew who he was. He deduced that his mind was playing tricks on him, because he knew that he had not yet left the Capsule Corp complex. Despite this, he had no idea where he was or what he was doing there. He couldn't breathe, let alone stand up, and was becoming increasingly anxious due to this. In the back of his mind, he was waiting for the darkness to come and spill over him again, as though it were a recurring nightmare, but it suddenly felt too real to be something dreamt up. Vegeta gasped desperately for air, his body feigning paralysis. He was in no position to do anything now, as he had used up what little energy he had accumulated whilst resting in his frantic struggle.

He closed his eyes for a minute, and when he opened them he saw a woman stand over him through his peripherals. She looked a little like Bulma, but his vision was blurred, so he couldn't fully make out the figure. From what he could tell, this wasn't the person who he had hoped. Something about her was different. _Her hair_. Bulma had recently had curly hair, and this vixen had long straight blue locks. He wasn't accustomed to this stranger, and her presence made him feel insecure in his weakness.

The woman cautiously approached him, and gently placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Are you okay Vegeta?" she called, sounding scared. She sounded exactly like Bulma, which made it even more difficult for him to understand. What relation did she have to him, and why did her voice sound so convicted? "Vegeta? Answer me!"

"I'm fine," he said through short raspy breaths.

Vegeta shot his hand out for the woman's arm and grabbed her by the wrist. She look shocked and frightened, and began squealing for him to let go.

"Who are you, and what am I doing here?" He gasped, as he held himself secure to the woman.

"Vegeta! Please!" Bulma stammered. "It's me! It's Bulma! Let me go!"

"No, you're not," Vegeta breathed, "Where is she?"

The other figure had manifested itself as Bulma's father, and came running to the woman's aid, trying to loosen Vegeta's grip, but he only tightened it. He heard her scream reverberate through the room amongst the sounds of her bones cracking. It was torturous. Then, as quickly as he had latched on, he let go. He had used up all of his strength, and felt dizzy again.

Bulma cradled her arm against her body as her father helped her scuffle as far away from Vegeta as possible. Tears were plummeting from her eyes, as she cried out whimpers through her sobs. She couldn't believe what had just happened. Had he actually knowingly attacked her? There had to be some sort of reasoning to this, but Bulma was too scared to care right now. She just wanted the pain to stop. It felt as though Vegeta had crumbled her wrist into dust. Her heart was throbbing to pump blood to her arm, but she could tell her blood vessels had burst, her hand was beginning to swell already, and the pain was excruciating.

Ironically, it had been the same hand that had been causing her problems since a week prior, and she thought that that numbing pain was enough to bother her. Oh boy, had she been wrong. Perhaps this was something of a sign that Vegeta hadn't actually changed. Oh, what if Yamcha had been right? Now her tears were spilling for another reason besides the pain. She was filled with sadness, regret, and mostly anger with herself. She should have known that something like this would have happened. Why had she been so stubborn?

"Are you okay sweetie?" Her dad said coaxingly to her, after making sure Vegeta was truly passed out and unable to inflict any more damage.

"It hurts… so… much" she sobbed.

* * *

Vegeta let his eyes open a little as he let the surroundings wash over him. He was still disoriented, and couldn't place why he was lying facedown on the floor. As he came to, the patchy pieces of what had just happened replayed in his mind; he remembered that he had collapsed. As he roamed his eyes without moving his head, he could barely make out the two figures that were slumped in a corner, the woman crying out in pain. He had hurt her in his attempt to discover what was truly going on. In his weakened state, although he had much less energy to expend, Vegeta was unable to properly control himself. What was meant to be a firm grip had become a bone-crushing squeeze, and the poor woman was defenceless to this. A pang of regret hit him, and for the first time Vegeta felt what it was to be sorry to injure someone inferior to him.

His eyes opened wider. Now that he could see more clearly, the woman bore a shocking resemblance to Bulma…

He saw her pull her arm away from her father as he tried to examine it.

What if she was…

"It's definitely broken," Dr Briefs said sadly.


	11. Chapter 11

_Sorry to all of the hardcore Vegeta fans out there who might prefer seeing his point of view in my story, but this one is all about Bulma. There is still a lot that I want to get out there, so don't go jumping to conclusions!_

_Enjoy!_

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* * *

_

Bulma was lying in a bed in one of the rooms in the medical wing below her house. Although she had made many rejections to her father, he reasoned that this was the most suitable place that she could be taken care of. After all, it wasn't every day that someone had their hand almost completely crushed, yet, remarkably, still remaining mostly intact. She propped her head up against a pillow uncomfortably, trying to shift her body without irritating her hand. It was astonishing, yet frightening, just how strong Vegeta was. Of course, she knew that people in league with Goku were much stronger than ordinary folk, but she spent most of her time with Yamcha, who was exponentially weaker than any Saiyan. This was something she had only just come to realise, despite the fact that she had had a Saiyan living under her roof for over a year.

She gazed at her arm, which was, amazingly to her, numb. She had expected that she would need to go under a heavy anaesthetic or something similar, yet her hand had stopped hurting about an hour after _it_ happened. Perhaps this was a bad thing, but she didn't care for now, as long as she wasn't suffering, she could spend more time focusing on important things. Things like trying to understand what had happened to cause all of this. First Vegeta had come to her for help, and then he had slinked away. Afterwards, Bulma had discovered him near death, and when he finally woke up he attacked her. She hit her head back against the pillow in disbelief. All of this had happened in a matter of a few hours, and it seemed as though it was all so unreal.

Suddenly she heard a beep as the door opened wide to reveal her father. Dr Briefs entered carrying a stack of papers, which turned out to be results from tests he had conducted on Bulma that day. He had put her in confinement for the past twenty-four hours under observation, so that he could analyse the outcome of her condition. He had a deep expression on his face as he walked in, still reading the papers. Bulma called out to him, asking what he found.

"Well, Bulma," he began, "it seems to be much worse than what we had first anticipated."

Bulma's face whitened slightly, but urged her father to go on.

"My tests indicate that your entire right hand has been damaged. Only two of your fingers have all bones intact, but all other bones have been shattered to partway up your arm. You should be feeling a lot of pain right now, but it seems as though the nerves from your shoulder down have been fried. It is very strange… there seems to be no explanation for that."

"Hmm… could it have been his energy that did it?" Bulma questioned.

"I'm not sure, as there has been no investigation in the principles of energy or ki, or the effects of it. Surely Vegeta possesses a lot of this, but until we know exactly what it can do and its consequences on the human body, we can't put the blame there."

"So," Bulma was puzzled, "does that mean you want to study Vegeta's energy?"

"It would be something very interesting to venture into, and there are no records in any scientific databases anywhere on the matter. I believe it would be beneficial."

Bulma could feel herself beginning to tense up at the thought of her father around Vegeta. Just two days ago, she would have had no issue with this, but now she saw a side of him that she wished she hadn't. It was dark, and possessed no remorse… only hatred and pain. She couldn't let her father risk himself if this were to happen again. Heck, right now she was frightened to be within a hundred metres of Vegeta. After all, he had managed to crush almost every bone in her arm, _and_ destroy the nerves, with a single squeeze.

"Dad, I don't want you to," she interjected, "I'm afraid he might hurt you."

"Now dear, I'll be just fine. I'm sure there is some perfectly good explanation behind Vegeta's actions. After all, he has been living with us for quite some time now, and has never shown these tendencies to us before. The one time he does it, he is injured almost beyond repair. Don't you think there may be something in that?"

"Maybe, but…" Bulma didn't want to think about it anymore. She looked away from her father and to her hand. She couldn't escape Vegeta. As if the cut on her hand was bad enough, he had gone and actually done some damage himself. Now all that she could do was sulk.

"I'll leave you here to rest. Would you like me to send up one of Capsule Corp's nurses for you?"

"No, I'll be okay," Bulma mumbled.

"Alright then. I want you to stay put until I can figure all of this out. I'm sure we can make your arm good as new," he smiled at her sweetly. "Now I'm going to check up on our 'other patient'. I'll be careful, don't worry," He added softly in response to an opposing look from his daughter.

Dr Briefs left the room through the beeping door, and Bulma was alone with only her thoughts as company.

* * *

Another day had come and gone, and Bulma was still stuck on the stark ward bed in the medical wing. Her father had come to check up on her a few times, and her mother had visited a couple times too, bringing with her delicious platters of food and sweets. Although she was partially immobile in her torso, Bulma was still able to move around with her left side quite freely, allowing her to still be able to interact with her family.

Despite the fact that this was the equivalent to any person's holiday – being catered to whilst relaxing on a bed and taking some time to chill out from the stresses of daily life (and Bulma had a _lot_ of those to contend with) – she just couldn't grasp any sense of serenity to rest. Instead, her mind was still gushing with endless thoughts about two men: Vegeta and Yamcha. On one hand, she was still scared witless about Vegeta's 'outburst', and couldn't come up with any explanation other than the chance that maybe he had been always feeling this hostile towards her, and finally, when his guard was let down, he exploded.

Dr Briefs had tried studying the untamed Saiyan, and through his lowered guard due to the drugs he had been given for his wounds, Vegeta was now on an experimental prototypical device that measured ki levels in a similar fashion to a heart rate monitor. Right now they were settling at around 20,000, which was deemed astronomical, as the control test on the doctor's ki was way down at around 47. When he told Bulma this, she was introduced to a whole new wave of fears. For someone to have so much energy in such a weakened state was amazing, and she realised that he was just toying with her; he could have killed her with one blow. Now she wondered why exactly she had put so much faith in this alien, who was a conqueror of worlds. She had believed that he had truly changed and come to love this planet, why else would he try to train so hard to defeat a threat that challenged this planet's existence? Maybe he was just taking advantage of her hospitality and technology, perhaps he would dispose of her once he was satisfied that she could no longer help him. And she was helping him get closer to that goal every day. She paused her thought for a moment, flashing back to her suggestion of a gravity room. She knew that that would never come to pass now that she was assured she had figured out what was _really_ going on.

Then every now and then, her thoughts would flicker back to Yamcha, the man who she thought she loved, who she had told to leave and never come back. She kept replaying that moment over and over in her head, and though to her self that perhaps someone who loves to play baseball and keeps his distance might not be so bad. After all, at least he actually cared about her. Vegeta looked down at Bulma like she was an insect. Argh, it was all too much! She kept thinking that she should call Yamcha and apologise, even if he was mad, she was sure she could get some sympathy from him, perhaps with some gloating thrown in for no extra charge. She hated that, but thought that maybe he was right to gloat.

Bulma picked up her pillow awkwardly with her left hand and threw it feebly across the room. She was debating wether or not she should pick up the phone and call Yamcha. She sat there going over scenario after scenario for close to a half an hour, before she grabbed the receiver beside her bed. He dialled the number and waited for the dial. It rang twice before she hung it up. What was she _doing?_ She had lost her mind, thinking that she would find solace in a friend she had thrown away like a piece of rubbish. She was just so scared, confused, and _lonely_.

RIIIIIIIING

Bulma jumped, shrieking as the sound of the phone next to her went off. She hadn't expected it, and it startled her greatly. She turned her head to see the ringing phone, but hesitated to answer. It was _him_, she knew it. After short deliberation, she figured that it would be rude to not answer, after all the things she had done to him she at least owed him that courtesy. She hovered her hand over the receiver, picked it up quickly, and closed her eyes as she squeaked a small "hello?"

"Umm, who is this?" came a confused voice from the other end of the phone. Bulma's heart sank, it _was_ Yamcha, though he didn't seem to know he had called her.

"You don't know?" she said softly?

"Nope, my message alert just told me that I got a missed call from this number."

Bulma slapped her good hand on her forehead. Of course, she had forgotten that the separate Capsule Corp labs had different numbers to each other. Yamcha knew of the one that Bulma worked in specifically, but this was a medical wing, and she had never called him from here before. This made things trickier for her, because that meant she had to actually admit that it was her who had made the call.

"Er… its… me," was all that she managed to stammer out. At once, Yamcha knew.

"What are you doing calling me?" he said, his tone changed to something slightly malicious.

"I'm sorry," Bulma sighed. She knew that it would be easier to get that out of the way first. "I'm sorry about everything that I said the other day."

"Oh?" Yamcha sounded surprised. Indeed, it wasn't often that Bulma would admit her mistakes. In an instant he managed to change his voice again, this time to something more sombre, but to the point. He questioned Bulma, "what's wrong?"

It was at that point that Bulma started breaking into tears. She was such an emotional person usually, that at any hint of conflict, she was never able to contain herself. "I need you, Yamcha."

"Did something happen? Are you hurt?"

"…yeah."

"I'm out of the city at the moment," Yamcha said. "After our… argument… er, I decided to go and start that training I was planning. I'm about an hour or so's flight from your place."

Bulma smiled through her tears. At least their fight wasn't in vain, and he had actually taken it upon himself to go do the training he intended. "Are you sure," she asked softly, "that you really want to come back?" She was a little scared at the response she might get.

"Anything for you."


	12. Chapter 12

_Note: This chapter has been changed from it's original form, as I felt that some of the ideas expressed don't fit properly into my events._

_If you have already read this prior to the changes, please post a review to let me know if you like this better._

_Enjoy._

* * *

Vegeta opened his eyes suddenly, the glaring white light penetrating his vision, momentarily blinding him. He was somewhere unknown, a place he had not recalled being before. Or, perhaps he had, only he couldn't remember. In fact, he couldn't really remember anything recent that had happened. He reached his hand up to rest his head. It was hot and sweaty, irritating his feverish head. He tried to adjust his sight, covering his eyes slightly with his hand. Soon, the blurred vision went away, and he began to make out patterns and lines that indicated furniture. He was in some sort of room.

Suddenly, his mind flickered back to something that had happened very recently. Of course, he _had_ been here before; this was the scene of the crime, per se. Vegeta stumbled backwards in the bed he was confined to, taking in the scenery. The stark white environment was unnatural to him, and it made him uneasy.

He was certain that this was where he had been confronted by that strange woman. His mind was still blurred, and his reasoning capabilities were incapacitated along with most of his other motor skills. He tried thinking hard about what exactly had happened, but found it impossible. Perhaps this was a situation that would be better if left alone, as he didn't want to have to think of the consequences of his actions. At least this way he didn't have to take responsibility for them.

Vegeta, in exasperation, brought up both arms back to his temples to rest there. Although his right arm had no problem doing so, Vegeta felt a tug on his left arm. He peered towards it, to notice for the first time that he was strapped into some kind of… device. Was he so out of it that it took him several minutes to realise that his entire hand was enclosed in something like a metallic glove? It was black, and felt soft like a cloth, yet was definitely made of some sort of alloy, similar to his training attire from his home planet. This was perplexing.

Before Vegeta could make any decisions as to what he would do next, the door leading in from a corridor opened with a loud beep. In strolled none other than Dr Briefs. He entered with caution, but still retained a soft, friendly appearance on his face, as he usually did.

"I see you're up and well, Vegeta," the doctor greeted calmly.

"It seems to be that way, yes," Vegeta responded harshly.

"I set up the computer system to inform me the moment you woke up. It was a little trek from the other side of the labs, but I seem to have gotten here before you could do any damage."

"Who are you?" Vegeta asked coldly, not even bothering to meet his gaze.

"Why, I'm Dr Trunks Briefs, you know that," he seemed a little confused as to why he was making introductions.

"Just making sure," Vegeta turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting a glance across the room. "Then tell me why I'm cooped up in here? I feel like some sort of hospital patient."

"Really, Vegeta, do you have no sense of what has happened? Could you be perhaps suffering from amnesia after all of what has happened?"

"I don't know, maybe you should start from the beginning," Vegeta was relieved that he could find a way out of his own misgivings, and have everything replayed to him. He sat stiffly in his bed, as if to signal to the doctor that he was listening.

Dr Briefs sat down on a chair halfway across the room from Vegeta's bed. He felt that Vegeta's hostility could very well have been due to his mind being overwhelmed by all of the new information he was trying to take in. After all, he was out for a good two days, and was still showing signs of heavy fatigue.

"Okay then, I think I'll start from where my Bulma told me the story begins. Stop me at any point if you need me to," he began.

* * *

"Nonsense!" Vegeta bellowed, his voice echoing throughout the room.

Dr Briefs had taken the time to thoroughly explain the events of the past two days, incorporating with this many scientific blatherings that Vegeta didn't understand. There was something to do with the gravity pod, self-inflicted injuries, and energy readings. The one thing that irritated him the most about this story was the fact that he was claimed to have caused irreparable damage to Bulma. He was still at odds with himself, and couldn't bring himself to think that he had done such a thing.

"Are you telling me that I did _all this_ to myself, and then lost control of my energy?" he called out in anger.

It was really quite a shocking blow to his ego to think that he would be so reckless with his training. Sure, he had pushed himself further than what others would, but he was only doing what was necessary to attain a higher level of power. There was no way that he could ever lose a hold on his own energy, and he refused to believe that this was the reason why he was in this mess. Although, there was no other way that he could explain what had happened earlier when he had stumbled to the ground. Was it really possible that he could cause so much havoc in such an incapacitated state? He tried crossing his arms angrily, but felt his left arm being tugged at by something.

"_Just what_," he struggled to free his hand of the glove-like structure, failing, "_is this thing?_"

Dr Briefs sat calmly in his chair, watching Vegeta thrash about in his bed, waiting for him to eventually calm down. It seemed that his power was increasing on the computer screen with every angry movement, despite his obvious lack of any real energy. He hoped within hope that the device would withstand Vegeta's dispute, at least for long enough for him to calm down. Right now, he was clearly in a state of delusion, which appeared to be sparked by his fear of inferiority. This was a side of Vegeta, the doctor was quite sure, that no other person had ever seen; the once proud Saiyan warrior, conqueror of worlds, diminished to a small scared man in a hospital bed.

"Vegeta," Dr Briefs said, standing up after a few minutes of watching the Saiyan rage tiredly in his bed, "I assure you that everything I have told you is true. You just seem to have suffered some memory loss and disorientation from your injuries."

"Yeah, so you said," Vegeta grumbled under his breath, still weakly tugging at the device locked on to his arm.

"I am sure that, in time, everything will return to you. For now, you should rest. Also, I would appreciate it if you didn't try to damage that machine. It'll be of great help to me in the future, which will let me help you better."

"What is that supposed to mean? _Help me?_"

"Of course, once we patch you up, you'll probably want to be out there training and doing what you usually do."

Vegeta stared indignantly at the old man, still clearly unable to take in everything that was going on around him. His head was throbbing painfully, along with the rest of his body. He was tired, and wanted to rest, but was still keen to figure what was going on. Dr Briefs slowly approached Vegeta reinserting the drip that had been earlier torn out in his fit of rage.

He said softly, "Is there something that I can do that would help you to understand better what is going on?"

Vegeta pondered the thought, and decided that he wanted to see for his own eyes exactly what he had done to Bulma. "Alright then, show me the woman."

"I don't think Bulma is in any state to be moving about, Vegeta-" he tried to reason.

"Well then. If you can show me what I've done, then maybe I'll warm up to some of your other ideas."

"Hmm," the doctor pondered out loud, "I suppose… if Bulma is up to seeing you, I'll bring her here. So you know, she's not in any particular state for this-."

"I heard you the first time. Now go and get her… and don't disappoint me."

* * *

It was a good three quarters of an hour after their little discussion, and Vegeta was still sitting in his bed waiting for the arrival of the 'damsel in distress'. He was hoping within himself that this was someone else, and that the recollections had simply been brought out of proportion. Even though he was a Saiyan warrior elite, one who was so often so confident in himself, living on this filthy little planet had begun to get to him. He felt a little sick in his stomach as he though of himself feeling sympathy towards someone whom he had injured, but it wasn't enough for him to change how he felt. If anyone had asked him, he could just deny it; no one ever dared to question his pride.

Another hour had passed, when finally the door opened with a loud beep. It remained open, yet it seemed there was no one there. Vegeta readied himself for whatever was coming, be he was not prepared for reality. Dr Briefs entered the room, his arm draped over his daughter's, as he led her hesitantly into the room. Vegeta's eyes widened at the sight of her striking blue hair and soft feminine characteristics, now frazzled, and dull. Her eyes were showing heavy bags, and she was not wearing make-up like she usually did. She was a shadow of her former self, and that was when he noticed the large cast around her right arm, which was in a white cloth sling. He didn't want to believe what he was seeing, as this was becoming all too real for him.

Bulma entered slowly, and scuttled to a chair that her father had set for her on that side of the room. She didn't glance towards Vegeta once, yet he could see every expression she was making. It was terror, something that he knew intimately since his childhood. He used to lavish in the fear that he caused in alien races, destroying and humiliating them as he hopped from planet to planet. That life was still so sweet to him, and he resented the fact that he was being held captive in a planet where no real fighter could ever crop up. It was simply chance that the Saiyan race ever came here in a peaceful time, and the planet should have been obliterated decades ago. Now he was living here with what should have been a dead race, and although his bloodthirsty heritage still coursed through his veins, it was unnerving seeing that this headstrong, defiant woman was afraid. It was certainly something that he hadn't experienced for a long while, not since the events on planet Namek. Back then he relished in the terror his power caused, but now… he was only confirming his prior doubts about his feelings.

From what he could see of her, sitting in the corner farthest from him, the woman was in pretty bad shape. Her psychological state seemed to scream out the most injure compared to her physical being, despite the claim that she lost most mobility of her right side. She was clinging with all of her might to her father, her head buried in his side. He was intrigued, and wanted to see for himself who this really was.

"Come closer," he said gruffly, startled by the whimper he heard come from the woman when he spoke. He tried to adjust his voice so he sounded less aggressive, but that didn't ever seem to work with Vegeta. "I can't see her from over there."

Some inaudible words were exchanged between father and daughter, but Vegeta could still understand what was going on. Bulma was shaking her head that she didn't want to, but her father was trying to coax her. At long last, they began moving very slowly towards Vegeta's bed, when he heard a few words escape the doctor's mouth and into his ear space, "It will help him understand." He thought to himself that perhaps he didn't want to understand.

Bulma finally sat down at an arm's length from Vegeta, shaking and still latched to her father. Dr Briefs gave a grim look towards him, as if to say '_this is what you wanted_'. He could see from this distance that she was more than just terrified. Enthralled, he reached his arm out to touch her cheek. She gave a small yelp, trembling, as she pulled away. He looked down at his fingers, which were coated in a glistening clear liquid. Urging Bulma to look at him, Vegeta saw that from her cast protruded mangled fingers, each one in a different angle. He didn't know of a technology that currently existed that could repair this damage. Anything advanced enough had been overtaken by Freiza, who was now destroyed along with his ship. Even the room he sat in now, with its obvious technological prowess, didn't contain a single instrument that could piece back a human arm.

"Look at me," he said softly, but impatiently.

Still trembling, Bulma looked up slowly, and met his eyes through locks of her messy blue hair. Tears were flooding her slim face, dripping onto her clothes as they approached her cheekbones and jaw line. Vegeta suddenly snapped awake from his delusions. There was no longer any doubt within his mind that this was a different person; he was staring into the eyes of a defeated woman. He was looking down at Bulma, and at what he had done to her.


	13. Chapter 13

_Here's the next chapter, I've incorporated everyone who's made an appearance so far._

_Enjoy!_

_

* * *

_

Bulma peered up at Vegeta, arrogance swarming over his posture, even thought he was tied down in a bed. There was just something about him that radiated self-confidence. Even when someone stronger than him in every way was staring him down, his ego always got the better of him. And now, this major point of his personality was the one thing that scared her the most. The fact that he could still do away with her with just the flick of his wrist, even though she knew he was nowhere near even a tenth of his usual power. It didn't just scare her… it was absolutely terrifying.

Bulma had to look away from his dark gaze, as she felt his penetrating glare encroaching on her personal space only too quickly. He had touched her cheek a moment ago, and she flinched away at the jolt she felt as the energy in his fingertips sparked against her skin. He had never touched her like that before, it was almost kind… in a Vegeta sort of way, though he only did it to get what he wanted, a glimpse of her terror. It was all some sick and twisted game to him, that was the only explanation Bulma could think of. And now, she was starting to feel sick herself.

Bulma turned to her father and leaned to his ear, whispering, "I want to leave now." He could feel her trembling as she softly spoke, and gently squeezed his arm around her in comfort. It was too soon for Bulma to leave, the doctor had reasoned to himself. He knew Vegeta was in some sort of delirium, and wanted to help him snap out of it. For some reason, it seemed that Bulma was his only form of leverage against the Saiyan. It was curious, though it sort of made sense. After all, Bulma was the one person who could actually get Vegeta to do something she wanted, it was as though she was immune to his arrogant lashings. But now, it seemed that Bulma had changed overnight. She was no longer the strong, confident girl that he knew. And Vegeta was different too. Oh, the damage that one event could cause was devastating. It must be set right, but it would take time.

The three sat together in the brightly lit room, engulfed by a deafening silence. Vegeta sat perched on his bed, clearly puzzled at the situation, while Bulma remained cradled in her father's arms. It was then that they heard a knock on the door, followed by muffled voices.

"Oh dear, I can't seem to ever be able to get this thing to work," could be faintly heard across the threshold. It sounded like a woman's voice, and was followed by a deeper tone, that of a man.

"Well maybe they can let us in," he said, then began to raise his voice so he could be heard more clearly, "Hey! Dr Briefs! Could you help us out here?"

Bulma perked up a little, tilting her head towards the voices. Her father looked down and smiled at her, as he got up to press the door release for the two. It opened with a loud beep, revealing Bunny and Yamcha standing patiently on the other side.

"Really dear," Dr Briefs said to his wife, "you should know by now that it's the large green button on the dial."

"Oh yes, I see. But you know me, I'm just so forgetful," Bunny smiled.

As they made pleasant conversation, Yamcha made no haste to enter the room. In there he saw Bulma, sitting alone on a chair facing Vegeta. He knew instantly that this could not be good.

"Bulma!" he cried out to her, which made her awkwardly turn on the spot to face him, her good hand poised on the back of the chair.

Yamcha ran over to her, and when he approached he noticed that she was encased in a white sling.

"Oh, God Bulma, what happened?" he said anxiously, ignoring a glaring Vegeta behind him as he turned his back towards the bed. He knelt down beside the chair, so that he was at a closer level to Bulma, and surveyed the situation. It didn't look very good at all.

"My… arm," Bulma squeaked through her tears, which were starting to dry up now. But she didn't care about her arm anymore; she was relieved that Yamcha forgave her. It showed that he certainly cared enough to show up. She lifted her left arm carefully so that she was in a semi-embrace with him, and he hugged her back cautiously.

"Oh Bulma, how did this happen?" he whispered in her ear. The response that came, though, definitely changed his tone from caring to something else altogether.

"V…" was all she needed to utter for Yamcha to get the idea.

"Vegeta?" his eyes blinked wide, as he pulled away, cocking his head towards the still-glaring Saiyan on the bed. "You did this to her?" he said in a tone of quiet anger.

"So what if I did?" came the response, Vegeta's voice strong and proud as always. If he felt any form of regret, he was certainly curtaining it well.

Yamcha knelt there in disbelief, still clutching Bulma's body. He gently let her go, standing to face Vegeta. Yamcha stood tall over his bed, his scarred face staring down at the injured Prince. He knew that Vegeta was a rotten egg, that he was to never be trusted, but of all things, Yamcha felt that at the very least Vegeta would restrain himself during his training. After all, these kind people had taken him in and aided him in every way possible. The very least thing he could do was show them some gratitude by _not_ dismantling them. Yet, here sat inexplicable proof that he had sunk to a new all-time low. Even in his weak state, Vegeta was still stronger than Yamcha. But the bandit did not care, he was too angry to fear this Saiyan. He was a coward, and needed some sense brought back to him.

"You… _idiot!_" he began, his voice booming throughout the room. It was something that Bulma had never heard escape Yamcha's mouth before, and it startled her. "How could you do something like this? All she ever did was help you! She even sent me away, because she believed that you've _changed_. But I know what you are. You're nothing but a scared little monkey! And you're using your power against the one person who actually cares about you!"

Yamcha pointed towards Bulma, who was now trying to cower away from the fight, which was only too close to her. Now that Yamcha was getting really mad, he was scaring her too. She wanted to leave, but she was frozen stiff to her chair. Her parents, too, were staring in awe at the new scene that was unravelling before them. Vegeta, however, was perched cockily upon his high horse.

"What makes you think I even give a damn?" he called out viciously, turning his head away from Yamcha. He had had enough of this nonsense. It was preposterous to think that anyone actually cared about him. He, Vegeta, was a cold-hearted, ruthless killing machine. The only person that could ever care about him was he himself! And the same went for returning affection; it was never going to happen. True though it may be, that he had some concern towards his actions and the wellbeing of Bulma, he didn't let these feelings conflict with his higher goals.

Yamcha stood there quietly, unable to find a retort, and instead turned to Bulma. "Come on," he said softly to her, holding out a hand.

Bulma shied away, still unsure of whom was on which side. All of the yelling hurt her head and made the room spin. Yamcha noticed her anguish, but left his hand hanging.

"It's okay, I'm going to get you out of here."

She reluctantly reached out for his hand and he helped her out of the chair, leading her towards the doctor. Bulma followed, but allowed her eyes to stay on Vegeta for a moment. He glared back, which made her turn away. She still couldn't believe everything that was happening.

Dr Briefs asked for Bunny to keep an eye on Vegeta while he showed Yamcha to Bulma's bed in another room, to which she agreed happily. Bulma's mother had no idea of the consequences that came with interacting with Vegeta, but she didn't seem to care. Bunny was always like that, though. There was nothing that could keep a smile off that woman's face.

* * *

"There you go," Yamcha said, as he helped Bulma back into her bed.

The room they were in was almost identical to Vegeta's, with the one exception of the absence of that horrid Saiyan. The thought of him always made Yamcha sick to his stomach, but now there was nothing that could ever make him go near him again. He only hoped that Bulma would see things the same way, but he felt that she always had a curious side to her that could not be tamed. It was almost as though it were her duty as a scientist to explore the uncharted reaches of this planet, and boy was Vegeta uncharted. He was a mystery to her, one that had ultimately hurt her.

Yamcha took a seat by Bulma's bed, along with Dr Briefs. He wanted to know everything that was going on, and if there was any way to fix it all. He sat quietly as he listened to the doctor's ramblings of test results and blood cell counts, right until there was nothing more to say. They sat together, trying to come up with a resolve for her arm, but it seemed that they would need a miracle to piece her back together. She was just too badly damaged. One option that they had stumbled upon was installing a cybernetic arm, but they decided that it would be no good, as Bulma strongly protested against it. In her defence, she made her point clear that she did not want to become anything unhuman. After all, wasn't this next big threat against the world from none other than androids?

"Of course, why didn't I think of it before?" Yamcha jumped up excitedly.

"What is it?" Bulma asked.

"What is the one thing that helps us fighters to recover quickly after long fights?"

"I don't see what you're getting at."

"Don't you see? Senzu beans! We can use the senzu beans to fix her arm, and anything else, for that matter!" he was beaming at his discovery.

"Oh yeah!" Bulma, too, was beginning to feel cheered up. This was the best news she'd heard for a couple days. "But, don't you have to go up to Korin's Tower to get them?"

"Yeah, I'll go now if you want. I won't be long!"

"Oh, Yamcha,' Bulma smiled at him, "thank you so much!"

With that he went to leave, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He spun around to see that Dr Briefs wanted to say something.

"Yamcha, would you do me a favour?"

"Yeah, of course. What is it?" he asked.

"If it is possible, would you bring us back more than just one of these beans? We might need it."

"Oh, I see. Bulma might need two. Good thinking Dr Briefs! I'll do what I can."

And with that, Yamcha exited the room, heading towards Korin's place.

* * *

Bulma was trying to kill time by doing some work, but was finding it difficult to work with only one hand. She had been waiting a few hours for Yamcha's return, and was beginning to grow impatient. She knew that this wasn't a good thing though, as it would make her think of things that she didn't want to, like Vegeta, and just how horrible he had become. So, instead she tried busying herself with the television. There wasn't a lot on, as she flipped through channels using the remote.

"Boring, boring, re-run… eugh, that stupid exercise show Roshi likes to watch." Bulma turned off the television at this point. _No wonder I don't watch TV_, she thought to herself, _there's never anything worth watching!_

Soon Bulma was left with nothing to do again, so she decided to lie back in the bed and rest for a while. She was exhausted, and felt like she could use some sleep. As short while later, she heard the ever-intrusive noise of the door opening, which startled her from her resting position, and poised to see who was visiting her. Yamcha was back, with her father safely in tow. He was beaming again, which meant that he came bearing good news.

"Hey Bulma," he said to her, "sorry I took so long."

Bulma wiped her eyes with her good arm, smiling back sleepily. "That's okay, I was only resting anyway."

"I'm glad."

The two gazed at each other for a moment, grinning at each other, until Dr Briefs cut in.

"So, it seems that Yamcha has successfully retrieved some senzu beans for us, Bulma," he stated.

"Yeah! Korin gave me four! But I don't think you'll need that many.

"That is just fine, it'll be good to have some spares so that I can study them, and for emergencies like this."

"Okay," Yamcha agreed. "Let's give Bulma one now though, I can't wait! Just wait till you try one, babe! It's amazing."

Bulma couldn't believe just how quickly Yamcha had gotten back to his usual cheerful self. She thought to herself how crazy it was for situations to turn and change so quickly. One moment they're debating solemnities, then the next, Bulma would be all better, as though none of this had ever happened! She was certainly excited.

She reached out for a senzu bean from her father's outreached hand, and put it in her mouth. It was small and hard, and crunched loudly against her teeth as she tried to break it down. Then, as soon as she had done so, it seemed to cause a disruption in her body, as thought it stopped her heart from beating for a split-second. During that time, she felt her arm stretch out on it's own, and an inaudible cracking as her bones pieced themselves back together. It was painless, and within one or two seconds her body had effortlessly formed its usual shape, blood coursing through her veins as it usually did. She looked down at herself, her arm still in the sling and cast, astonished as she felt herself wiggling her fingers that protruded. Also, a faint headache that was bothering her had gone, along with every other minor ailment that she had retained from her injuries. Bulma looked up and smiled. She was good as new.

"Can we get this thing off of me?" she said almost sarcastically, as she wove her cast arm around effortlessly.

Yamcha and Dr Briefs both smiled to each other, then to Bulma. Within the next few minutes, the doctor had retrieved the tools to remove her cast, and she jumped off the bed for the first time in a couple days.

"Ow! What did you do that for?" she winced, as her father pinched her arm.

He laughed at her, "Well, your nerves are functioning properly."

"Of course they are!" she glared at him playfully.

Dr Briefs picked up the other three senzu beans that were lying on the table.

"You two can leave if you'd like, there's no more reason for me to keep you cooped up in here any longer Bulma," he said. "I'm still needed down here though, so I'll go put these two beans in a safe place."

"Wait," Yamcha interrupted, "aren't there three beans left?"

"Oh yes," the doctor replied, "but Vegeta hasn't had one yet."

Yamcha and Bulma both gasped together, shocked at his words, "Vegeta?"


	14. Chapter 14

_New chapter, exploring some of Vegeta's feelings._

_Note: I have made some significant changes to chapters 10 and 12, as I felt that some of the ideas didn't fit very well. If you want to take the time to go back and reread them, I'd appreciate any feedback regarding the changes._

_Enjoy!_

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"What are you doing, old man?" Vegeta grumbled at the doctor as he entered the room. "Do you expect me to actually take this?"

Dr Briefs was holding one of the small green senzu beans to Vegeta, coaxing him to take it. Vegeta had been sitting in this unwelcoming, sterile room for the past three hours, chained to this bed by the alloy glove on his hand. He could not so much as leave the bed without having to use some of his energy, which was not an option he had decided would be optimal. He was still in rough shape, and the earthling drugs that he had been given were fighting against him for control over his consciousness. In all, he was feeling achy, woozy and just plain unwell. He had decided to instead sit alone in the room until someone came in to set him free. At least that infernal blonde woman had left him; that Bunny Briefs sure had a motor mouth, and she had left his ears feeling slightly numb, and he wasn't sure if the ringing was from her or the medication.

Dr Briefs tried once more to convince the Saiyan to take the bean, but to no avail. Alas, he had to resort to trying to actually reason with him. This would be no small feat.

"Vegeta," he began, "I understand that you're in a lot of pain there-" but he was interrupted.

"Pain? You know nothing of pain. I can't feel a thing." Vegeta snidely remarked.

"Well I can see that you have sustained a lot of injuries. Surely you want them to heal as quickly as possible.

"I am a Saiyan, old man, and it will take more than a few of your _injuries_ to take me down."

"Say that as you might, Vegeta, but I have seen you go down a fair few times just these past couple days," the doctor had reached an arguable point, "and I can see that you are not recovering so quickly."

"So what?"

"Would it be wrong of me to presume that you are uncomfortable here? Or perhaps I _am_ wrong, and you wouldn't mind the peace and quiet. Heh," he chuffed to himself, "I personally wouldn't turn down a few days of R&R myself, if you know what I mean."

Vegeta's ears perked up at this. If he were to take the stupid bean, his energy level would rise back to normal, and he could finally be left alone. If there was anything Vegeta loathed more than this demoralising experience, being trumped by mere humans, was that he was missing out on vital training opportunities, whilst Kakarot was out there, outdoing him once more. Vegeta was a proud Saiyan, and he would never step down to the likes of lower-class scum such as Kakarot… _never. _He grudgingly reached out his hand for the bean, when the doctor pulled his hand back so that it was just out of reach.

"Of course," he mentioned, trying to sound serious and hide his usual grin, "there is something that I would like you to do for me."

"What?" Vegeta spat. His patience was running thin; he wanted to escape this hole as quickly as possible. He wanted to be back in the capsule pod, his solace. His bones ached to once again struggle against massive forces of gravity. Most of all, the urge to ascend was coursing through his veins, as though his heritage from the prestigious royal bloodline was silently pushing him in the back of his mind.

"I would like to run a few tests on you."

The reply was so simple, that Vegeta didn't comprehend what was being said. His mind was too busy contemplating the feeling of ultimate power running through his body, accessible at his fingertips. He had to pause for a moment to try to pull himself back to the conversation. To him, it was the pointless chatterings between a god and a flea, and they had no influence on the end result. Nonetheless, he 'played nice' and responded to the old man's requests.

"What _sort_ of tests?" he curtly replied, though he had no intention to agree in the end.

"You see that glove-live device strapped to your left arm?" Dr Briefs pointed casually towards the aforementioned item. He noticed as Vegeta followed his direction, peering down at the glove. "Yes, that. If you do recall, I believe I said earlier that this device might be able to help you. Of course, it will help me in many ways as well."

"Wonderful," Vegeta said sarcastically, "though it would help if you actually told me what it _does._"

"Oh, I haven't told you yet? Dear me, no wonder you're in such a state." Vegeta glared up at the man, showing that he was running on a very short leash before he would lose all interest. "Yes, well, you see…" the doctor stumbled across his words as he tried to avert his gaze from the grumpy brute. He cleared his throat, and began again, "the device strapped to your arm is what I call an 'energy labeller'. It is a very sophisticated piece of machinery that I created just for you, Vegeta."

"I'm flattered," came a monotonous growl.

"Right. Well, basically, the glove-like apparatus is fitted onto the palm of your hand, and through electromagnetic pulses it can take readings of your energy output. This then sends all of the information to an external drive, which I can remove, and then study on my own equipment in my lab."

"Sounds complicated," said Vegeta, his sarcasm unrelenting.

"Yes, well you sparked my investigative attention when you injured Bulma. You see, Vegeta, not only did you crush most of her bones, but you also managed to desiccate all of her neural receptors for that arm. From my tests on her, it wasn't a matter of the destruction of nerve endings in her am, but instead you had somehow destroyed the receptors for those nerves in her brain. It's rather curious…"

The doctor trailed off in thought, as Vegeta tried to contemplate what was being said. If he was right, then this meant that he possessed the ability to destroy someone with a simple flare of energy directed to the right place. It was invigorating, knowing that he was so mighty over all of these weakling humans. Had he wanted to, he could destroy an entire civilisation without even wasting the time to charge up an energy beam. The doctor, however, was watching Vegeta's reaction to what he was saying, noticing the grim pleasure that escaped his dark smile.

"Vegeta," he said in a low voice, unlike anything he had ever used before, "although this is an extremely interesting discovery, I am sure you haven't failed to understand the consequences of this." Vegeta hid his smile, and vaguely listened to what he was being told. "For only too long have you and other fighters like you been on this planet, exerting such strength. Although it is to this world's advantage that you exist to ward off other powerful beings such as Freiza, there will always be a price for your power. Now I understand what damage can be caused on the small-scale, and I implore you to train not only your body, but, more specifically, your mind."

"I'm growing tired of your nonsense, old man," Vegeta waved him away, as though he was deciding to end the conversation. However, he had no authority in this matter, and was still tied down to the bed, and was forced to hear that the doctor had to say. Vegeta slumped back into his pillow as he continued.

"I understand that some terrible things have strayed across your path Vegeta, and from the events of these past few days, it has come to my attention that reflexes that have developed from these long years of torment still exist within you."

"You have no idea what I have been through, and it is not your place to judge!"

"I am not judging, merely stating the obvious. You have not always been a peaceful man, and so I think that you may pose a threat to everyone around you if left unrestrained."

"So what, you want to put a collar on me?"

"Heavens no, I want to help you."

"Helping me is what you say, but I'm hearing other things. If you want me gone, then I'll leave. I don't need you anyway," Vegeta grumbled, crossing his arms as best as he could with the glove still attached to him.

Dr Briefs raised his hand to his brow. He grew weary of this conversation with the Saiyan, as he naturally strayed away from conflicting situations. Bulma was much better at this than he was, though he knew that she wasn't ready to go back to her normal interactions with Vegeta just yet; he had greatly hurt not only her body, but also her spirit – the very essence that made Bulma who she was. He would do this for her, and work with Vegeta to control his power. The end result would help both Bulma and Vegeta; he could see that Bulma held affection for this Saiyan, and he didn't want her life to be in any more danger than he could manage. He sighed quietly, and raised his head back towards the stubborn Saiyan.

"What about Bulma?" he said softly.

"What _about_ her?"

"You may not need me but you need her."

"The only person in this entire galaxy that I _need_ is myself," Vegeta stated indignantly.

"You might say that, but she has helped you in many situations that you could not solve yourself."

Vegeta closed his eyes, pretending not to listen to the man, although he knew that these were truths being said. Vegeta had somehow, along his rocky path leading up to now, come to feel a kind tolerance for the woman that he had never before felt. It was nothing of any major significance other than the fact that he felt truly sorry within himself that he had involved her in this entire mess. In fact, he stumbled upon a realisation that he had felt regret from his actions even _before_ he knew true identity of that person.

He unfolded his arms, and turned his palms to face his. He gazed down upon them, trying to find some kind of meaning within. His right hand was the only one that showed his coarse, calloused skin. He wondered what it was like to exist in a different life, one where he wasn't a fighter, but instead a normal person with a mediocre destiny. To live in a world that he had no control over, where other beings held the controls of what could and would happen. He wondered what his hands would look like then, but he knew that they would always be the same. He had the right to determine his destiny, and he would most certainly fulfil it, and no other being would get in his way. He would never let his power slip from his grasp ever again. He would have ultimate control, and that was exactly how it should be.

His mind flickered back to Bulma, and he realised that he didn't want to do again what he had already done. Though he would deny it every step of the way, Vegeta knew that he could find a peer in Bulma; she was something more than just an ordinary person living a mediocre life. Then and there he decided to take the doctor up on his offer. It seemed lucrative for him, as it promised mental strength, which would lead to enhanced physical strength. Maybe this was the push that he needed that would send him to his pinnacle and over the edge, towards ascension.

"Okay, old man," Vegeta said, trying his best to sound as though he had been cornered, "I'll do it, but only if you promise it'll make me stronger."


	15. Chapter 15

_Apologies for the late update. With lots of things going on, it was hard this past week to find a quiet time to sit down and write._

_Anyway, here is the next installment, bringing an end to Week 2 of the story. Just 2 and a bit more years to go._

_Enjoy!  
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Vegeta grabbed the senzu bean from the outstretched hand of the doctor. He stared at it briefly, noting how small it was. He had only seen these beans on one other occasion, which was on Namek, when Kakarot had decided it was safe to trust him. Perhaps this was where all of this tomfoolery with the earthlings had begun. Sure, he had formed an 'alliance' with Gohan and Krillin, but it was only a guise he held, a trap set that they so foolishly played into. They were all alike, the humans, so slow-witted and easy to distract, but not the Briefs. The old man was a quick one, although he looked feeble in his weathered body, and created many things that left even Vegeta in awe; the blonde woman was far more clever than she would ever let on, and was the only person who left Vegeta feeling vulnerable and nervous; Bulma was a strong combination of the two, inheriting both brains and beauty. These were, perhaps, the only people on earth who could rival Vegeta.

He grasped the senzu bean delicately between his finger and thumb, holding it up to the light. It bounced off the bean, which luminesced a vibrant green without any other source. He grumbled to himself quietly, thinking of how something so small could possibly be so potent. Vegeta would have never believed of such a thing had he not already felt the power himself. He popped the bean into his mouth, and rolled it between his cheeks for a moment, analysing its texture and flavour. He was surprised to find that his tastebuds could not sense anything, as though he had simply taken a breath of air, but he could definitely feel the small rigid shape as he rolled it to his teeth. Furrowing his brows slightly, he crunched on it bean, which was notably loud, and the small fragments seemed to suddenly dissolve in his mouth before he could even finish swallowing. It only took a moment before he could feel its effects beginning to set in.

Within seconds, Vegeta could feel his heart begin to beat faster, and noticed the sensation of blood pumping through his veins a little harder. He looked down at his body for visible results, but he was still encased in bandaged blotched all over in a pink hue. Despite this, he could see his body begin to bulge under the bindings, as his muscles grew to their maximum once again. Even though he detested the principle of eating a 'super-food' to heal himself, Vegeta appreciated the fact that his put him back up at his pinnacle without the need to use even a neuron of his brain to think about it. What was more, he felt that his energy had increased incrementally; he had always revelled in the Saiyan ability to grow stronger after every injury, it was what made them the greatest warriors of the universe. He flexed his newly strong muscles, which instantaneously ripped the bandages, and he tore the remnants off effortlessly with he free hand. Peering down at his bare chest, he could see that every wound had sealed itself, with only traces of dried blood encrusted against his skin remaining. He was back to his usual unbelievably powerful self, and he felt good.

Dr Briefs gasped loudly as he rushed to view a monitor that was perched beside Vegeta's bed. On it were the energy readings, displayed similarly to a seismograph, showing fluctuating levels of energy in the form of peaks and troughs. At that moment, the monitor was showing an exponential increase in energy, which was still rising at an incredulous pace.

"This is simply amazing, Vegeta," he cooed, "I could never believe anything like this had I not actually experienced the sheer amount of power you possess."

"That's nice," Vegeta said cockily, eyeing the glove-like device on his hand, "but I think I'm finished playing with your toys."

"Oh no," the doctor began, "I'm nowhere near being finished. This is simply the beginning! I need to run lots of tests-".

"I've been sitting around for too long, I've wasted enough time. I feel like doing a little training," Vegeta interrupted, still staring at the energy labeller.

With one swift move, he formed his hand into a fist, and shot it straight into the wall beside him. There was a horrendous bang, and the device exploded into a cloud of smoke. When the smoke cleared, he smiled slyly at himself, and his now bare hand. Dr Briefs stood there agape, unsure of what to think or do. He had spent several hours non-stop building that thing, which now lay amongst the rubble of the broken wall upon the floor.

"V…Vegeta…" he stammered, "you said…"

"I changed my mind," Vegeta chuckled to himself darkly.

"But… what about Bulma?"

"Forget the woman, I don't care what becomes of her."

Although Vegeta had been out of commission for only a few short days, it had been weeks since he had felt his true power. Now that it had surged to him like a lightning bolt, he was consumed by the feeling of sheer strength it gave him, and with that bolt of energy came a thick frosty sheet of ego. Any emotion that he had experienced in the past few days, he immediately let himself forget. After all, this was a war that he was in, a war of power and ability, a war between himself and the rest of the universe. He, Vegeta, Prince of all Saiyans, was back in the race to become the strongest fighter this universe had ever known. But first, he would take a hot shower and find some more suitable attire to work with than these stupid pyjama pants.

* * *

"I think now is the time for me to say 'I _told_ you so!'" Bulma jeered at her father, her hands on her hips in frustration.

He had just come to tell her of Vegeta's recovery, hoping for some empathy towards the situation, but only received a cold retort. After all, Bulma knew from the moment that her father even mentioned 'senzu beans' and 'Vegeta' in the same sentence that this would all end badly. How right she was. If this were any other situation, she would be at least a little relieved that Vegeta was no longer incapacitated, but this was _not_ any other situation. In fact, at that moment Bulma was trying to mask the fear in her voice with anger, if not to fool the others, but to try to convince herself that she wasn't afraid. But she was… the look that Vegeta had given her right when he crushed her wrist, it was the sort that nightmares are made of.

Bulma tried desperately to block the thoughts out of her mind, but it was too late… they had already seeped through. She felt herself plunge backwards in time, right to that moment. She was standing there, looking down at him, trying to help him; only he didn't want her help. He couldn't seem to make out what was reality and what was fantasy; his eyes were sparkling with something that Bulma was unfamiliar with. It was then that she knew he could no longer be trusted, when he tightened his grip she felt no physical pain, but something much stronger from inside herself.

"No…" she whimpered weakly, as she lost her footing, collapsing onto the floor. It had happened so suddenly and unexpectedly that neither Dr Briefs nor Yamcha was able to catch her in time, and she hit the ground with her knees with a dull thud. Yamcha was the quickest, and managed to grab Bulma's arms before she sank and further, and he gently pulled her back up onto her feet. He then gently led her to a chair, which she gratefully sat herself down upon.

"Are you okay?" Yamcha questioned her, but she didn't seem to take any notice.

"She hasn't used much energy in a couple days, I think she might need to rest a little longer," Dr Briefs chimed in, as he suggested that Yamcha take her up to her room.

"No…" Bulma said wearily, "I'm fine. I don't need any more time to relax, or whatever you think it is I need."

"But, you don't look fine-" Yamcha began.

Bulma immediately shot up out of her chair, apparently back at one hundred percent again, and shot at Yamcha, "Oh, what is _that_ supposed to mean!"

"Nothing…" Yamcha trailed off, as he tried to pace himself backwards into the wall, away from Bulma's reach.

"That's what I thought," she folded her arms, ending the conversation there. After a moment of silence throughout the room, she sparked up again, "Gee wow, Dad, you said I've been out for a couple days?"

"That's right, Bulma."

"Oh no! I'm so far behind!" she seemed worried once again, but in a different sense this time.

"You're… what?" Yamcha dared to ask.

"Work! You know, Capsule Corporation!" she gasped, "I do have a _job_ you know. I have to get myself to the lab!"

And with that, she excused herself, leaving the room with two very confused men.

"Women…" came a rattle from Yamcha.

* * *

Bulma closed the door behind her, as she leaned back against it. Finally, she was back in her lab, her one place of solace. She closed her eyes as she breathed in the musky smell of chemicals and listened to the gentle hum of technology. It had only been two days, but it felt like she had been away for so long. Running her fingers through her soft hair, she thought to herself how lucky she was to have this hideaway; it was beginning to get very uncomfortable in that stark room in the medical wing. Bulma was still second-guessing her actions towards Yamcha from the past couple days, trying to make her mind up as to whether she had made the right decision or not. He had been her companion for so long, that it just felt wrong to not have him by her side, but what she was feeling now was something else. She knew she loved him dearly, but she was not sure if it was as a lover, or as a friend, and she needed some time away from him to think.

On top of that, the major topic of conversation recently had been _him_, and in this case she simply had no idea what her standing point was with Vegeta. She had managed to co-exist with him for such a long period of time that she could feel her personal barriers breaking down, so much that she started to feel like she could almost trust him like the others. After all, even though he always seemed such an angry person, Vegeta hardly ever showed any of his more _disagreeable_ nature any more, which seemed, for a time, like he was improving. But now, that was a completely different point altogether.

Bulma let her mind tread lightly over her memories once more, trying to take in some sort of meaning from that interaction. She struggled with herself, and felt her fear rising again as she saw herself staring into the eyes of this Saiyan grasping her. It was as if he was a completely different person, so weak and angry… or was it fear he was feeling himself? She opened her eyes again, and slumped down so that her knees were at her chest, her hands cradling her head. She had put so much trust in him, and it had all been blown away in that one moment. She felt a tear trickle down her cheek, followed by another. No, 'blown away' was the wrong way to put it… Vegeta had crushed her, and like the bone shattering in her arm, she could feel herself splitting into fragments of herself.

Bulma lifted her head, gasping for air as her face became flooded with lashings of tears. She knew that she had to get a hold of herself, but she just couldn't. She had never felt this way about a person; not even Yamcha had ever hurt her this badly. Perhaps she was more like Vegeta than she had ever hoped, and much less like any normal person. The best way she could manage to explain this to herself, was in words that only he could ever come up with: he had damaged her pride.

After a few more minutes of indulging in her pain, Bulma finally felt her tears subsiding, and her face began to dry. She was grateful for her own private laboratory within Capsule Corp, as it was the only place where she could truly be herself. Not even in her own bedroom was she able to hide away, lest her mother or someone else interrupt her. In here though, Bulma was free to work as she pleased without the chance of interruption; the only time that happened was over the telephone. Her only doubts were that, if he wanted to, Vegeta would have no problem finding her and infiltrating the facility. However, he had not once set foot in these rooms, and Bulma knew that it was silly to think he would waste his time with her, even though she still felt a little insecure.

Getting up finally, Bulma decided that she really did need to get back to work, as she truly was falling behind schedule. Usually she would work at her own leisurely pace, but right now she had no time for that. She pumped her right arm, flexing it to ensure that it was truly all healed, which it was. She then put on her lab coat and began rummaging through a desk for schematics for a new type of dynocap.

As Bulma worked, she felt herself become more relaxed, enjoying what she was doing, despite the looming thoughts of the two men in her life that were whirring in the back of her mind like a whirlpool. She tried her best to ignore them, and decided that she would face these obstacles when they presented themselves, despite how much more difficult that may be.

Outside, Vegeta was back in the capsule pod, training at 500g. He was pushing his limitations as usual, but he knew that this time he would stop before it got so bad that he would end up back in a hospital bed again; he would never let that fate become of him again. However, he was determined to reach the pinnacle of his power, the point that Kakarot had achieved, ascension into a Super Saiyan.

As the cool air breezed through the trees outside, along with the dull noise of traffic in West City, it seemed as though everything was back to normal again.


	16. Chapter 16

_I decided to write something a little special for this chapter, seeing as the total hits for this story have just gone OVER 9000. That's right, in little more than one month since I began, I've had about 800 individual viewers read at least one chapter, and it thrills me to bits. I hope you're all enjoying the story, and will stick with me to the end._

_Enjoy!_

_[Thank you to MiR for pointing out my error, I appreciate it that you took the time to let me know]  
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Bulma squinted, holding her hand over her eyes as she looked at the sky around her. It was dazzlingly blue, with no clouds in sight. She breathed in the sweet scent of the blooming flowers in the garden around her and let out a sigh of relief.

"Looks like it's going to be a beautiful day," she said aloud to no one in particular.

She was standing in an open patch of grass taking in the scenery. Normally she wouldn't be so sentimental about things, but it had been two weeks since she had emerged from her underground laboratory since first going back in. With recent happenings and her workload, Bulma decided that perhaps it would be much safer nestled up in there. Of course, she had her mother bring down food at regular meal times, and she was grateful for that. Bulma still wasn't over her latest 'experience' with Vegeta, and was dreading the moment she would encounter him again. Luckily, she somehow managed to stay inside her lab for the whole two weeks, until she received a phone call from a familiar voice.

Satisfied that the weather conditions were to her liking, Bulma reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a small rectangle plastic case. She flipped it open effortlessly to reveal her own personal collection of dynocaps. She carefully eyed them, trying to decide which she would open, when she placed her finger on one with a label of a blue star. This was something that she had been working on recently, and she wanted to test it out. She carefully popped it out of the case and pressed her thumb on the release, afterwards letting it fall onto the open patch of grass before her.

The capsule sat there on the ground for a few seconds, at which Bulma ventured nearer to inspect it. It should have opened by now, which meant that there must be a fault within her programming. Sadly, she reached to pick it up, when there was a loud pop and a small puff of smoke. The dynocap had finally opened.

_It's probably because I haven't used it before_, Bulma thought to herself, as she stood back to admire her work. Before her was a small hovercraft with a sleek glass cover. The bodywork was in a dazzling metallic blue, and she had taken the liberty to pain on the sides some edgy flames in indigo, with a large star, similar to the one on the label, on the hood. It was her newest prototype for the company, and Bulma predicted that it would become the highest of fashion for luxury car owners. She ran her hand over the top of the star, smiling to herself as she felt the cool metal touch her skin. It was truly a work of art, a design that matched style with speed, and Bulma loved to go fast.

After spending about five minutes under the hood ensuring everything was in the proper place, Bulma let it down and clicked a button on a small immobiliser. The car let out a musical whine, followed by the driver's door sliding open. She let herself into the seat and checked the controls. The interior was jet black, and she smiled once again as she felt the seats. They were soft and comfortable, and gave her a good amount of legroom considering the size of the car; after all, it was only a 2-seater. She turned on the engine and let it give a roar before setting off.

As she flew the car over her house, she watched the city grow smaller. Soon houses became small squares, and parks were patches of green that whizzed past too quickly for her to recognise them. She felt good to be out of the house for once, she couldn't remember the last time she had actually done anything other than work. Now she was up in the sky, flying just like everyone else she knew, only in her own way. Bulma knew that she would never get up the courage to learn how to fly for herself, so she indulged in her love of speed in the only way she knew how, she used her brain to construct flying machines. But this time, she wasn't out just for the sake of letting off some steam and 'going fast', Bulma had somewhere she needed to be.

After only a few minutes of flying, Bulma started to feel a little warm. She suddenly realised how stuffy the inside of the small car was, and that she was beginning to heat up like a frying pan. She gave herself a little grin, and with a giggle she pressed a small red button on the dash. The whole glass roof of the car suddenly gave way, sliding backwards and resting on top of the trunk, and at once the top was completely exposed. Cold air rushed through the car, instantly cooling Bulma off, and she laughed loudly to herself as she flew at full speed in the top-down convertible high up in the air.

* * *

Bulma was just beginning to feel free of all of her burdens as she approached an outcrop of small mountains. She was finally nearing her destination, and she slowed down a little to take in the scenery. It had been almost an hour, enough time for Bulma to go through all of her thoughts to an extent where she no longer had anything else to think about, which was perfect timing. She hummed a little tune to herself as she flew over a mountain and came to a large green valley. Just beyond a patch of trees, she found what she was looking for, and set down next to a small house.

As Bulma came in for a landing, she saw a woman with black hair step out of the house and look up at her. She had a familiar smile on her face, and waved up towards the car. When it came to a stop, Bulma stepped out and ran to hug her friend.

"Bulma, it's so nice to see you!" the woman beamed.

"Oh Chi-Chi, it's been so long! How are you?" Bulma asked happily.

"I'm holding out here just as best as any women with two boys can do."

"Two boys?" Bulma looked puzzled, "I thought you only had Gohan."

"Oh, I do, but Goku is just like a little kid most of the time," she laughed, as Bulma joined in.

Bulma turned towards her car, about to activate capsulation, when Chi-Chi exclaimed at it.

"Oh, wow! Is that _your_ car? It's so beautiful!" she gasped, eyeing the car as it dazzled in the bright sunlight.

"Yep, I made it myself!" Bulma stated proudly.

"Wow Bulma, that looks like it cost a fortune! I wish I could afford a car, but I can't even afford Goku's driving lessons! He's already failed too many times for me to count!"

"Chi-Chi, you know I can hook you up-" Bulma began, but was interrupted by her friend's rant.

"You know I couldn't do that Bulma! I'm a poor woman with two ungrateful boys who just want to fight instead of study and help me around the house! Oh, what am I ever going to do?" Chi-Chi had her hands on her face as she shook her head sadly, feigning desperation, which only made Bulma laugh.

"Oh Chi-Chi, you certainly are a funny one," she said as she changed the car back into a capsule and stowed it safely in its case. She then looked around her, noticing the clear blue sky and fresh green grass. It was always peaceful out here by Mount Paozu, ever since she first ventured out in her search for the dragon balls and met young Goku. "Hey Chi-Chi," she asked, her memory jolted by her thoughts, "where _are_ your boys?"

Chi-Chi straightened her posture and looked up with an airy gaze. "They're out catching us something for lunch," she said calmly, then invited Bulma inside for a drink while they waited.

The house inside was quaint compared to Bulma's extravagant mansion, but that was to be expected. Chi-Chi believed that she should live off of her own hard work, and only ever bought what was absolutely necessary, which was strange considering she once lived in luxury under her father the Ox King. Perhaps it had something to do with the great fire of her castle just after the 23rd World Martial Arts Tournament that had spurred on this way of thinking, making her value everything even more. Whatever it was, Bulma didn't see why they just didn't ask for more help. After all, Goku did save the world a couple times already, didn't that give him the right to a little luxury? Bulma sighed inwardly. Being a spoilt only child herself, she would never understand the simple pleasures of living off of your own land. _To each their own, I guess, _she thought.

The two women sat and chatted for a short while, and just as they were running out of pleasantries to share, they both turned their heads at the sound of cheerful voices. They got up to peer through the window, and saw Gohan running towards them, with his father in tow. Between them they carried a fish large enough to fit into the entire living room, still twitching with life. Bulma put her hand to her mouth in awe, she had never seen one so huge in her life!

With uncertainty in her voice, she stammered to Chi-Chi, "Is… that for us?"

The response was a hearty laugh, as Chi-Chi found this quite amusing. Of course, she was completely used to the immense Saiyan appetite, and smiled at Bulma as she walked toward the kitchen bench. Atop it was a large tray covered with a cloth, which was keeping the contents fresh. She pulled it off, revealing plates upon plates of freshly prepared noodles, rice and vegetables, then laughed as she saw Bulma's new reaction.

"Surely you know how it is!" Chi-Chi said, "After all, don't you live with a Saiyan yourself?"

This new topic of conversation left a foul taste in the air, and Bulma changed her face to something a little more aggressive. She folded her arms close to her body frowning.

"I wouldn't know, it's not like I'm his wife," she grumbled.

Chi-Chi suddenly realised that she hit a sore spot, so she decided to change the conversation, asking Bulma to help her set up the food. Bulma pulled out a large blanket while Chi-Chi easily balanced the tray, which was almost as big as her, as she took it outside; it was to be a picnic.

"Hi!" came a distant call, as Bulma noticed Goku running towards them. He had taken the fish to carry by himself, and had it slung over his right shoulder. It was unbelievable to Bulma that he was able to carry that thing, let alone be able to hold its slippery scales. Soon he was close to where they were setting up, and decided to plonk the fish down there so he could give Bulma a proper welcome.

"Bulma, it's good to see you!" Goku beamed, reaching out to give her a big hug. Although she tried to refuse it, he was too quick and managed to give her a big wet fish-smelling squeeze.

"Uh… thanks Goku," she managed to say, the smile on her face a little lopsided as she tried to hide her disgust. She then noticed that it wasn't so bad, and she had only anticipated the odour. Despite the fact that he was always doing something that made him horribly messy, Goku always smelt nice. Perhaps it was a Saiyan thing, but she didn't have any way to test that theory. As she let her thoughts envelop her again, she noticed a savoury smell cross her nose.

"Dad, it's cooking!" came the voice of Gohan, who had just skewered the fish on a tree trunk and set a fire beneath it.

"That's great son!" Goku called back to him.

"Um… Goku," Bulma began as he turned his attention back to her, "is this really necessary?" She pointed towards the fish, and then the rest of the food that Chi-Chi had already prepared.

Goku laughed loudly, and laid a large hand on Bulma's shoulder. "Gee, Bulma," he said, "It really has been too long."

* * *

Twenty minutes after the fish had started cooking, Bulma, Chi-Chi, Goku and Gohan were all sitting on a large blanket on a lush patch of grass outside the house. The plates of food had been scattered out evenly, yet they still seemed to surround Goku, and on one edge sat a beautiful browned fish, waiting to be eaten. It was a feast, even by Bulma's high standards, and she thought that perhaps her friends had gone out on a limb for her. To her surprise, however, Bulma soon realised that it had been such a long time since she had had a meal with Goku.

As they began to eat, Bulma casually placed a few pieces of everything onto her own plate, but by then Goku had already finished a whole bowl of rice. It was then that she felt her memory being jogged back to the World's Martial Arts Tournaments, and the sheer amount that Goku ate. _It's was a good thing that Chi-Chi's a good cook_, she thought to herself, smiling, _or else I don't know if she'd still be a married woman!_

"So…" she started, trying to get a conversation going, "how's the training going?"

Chi-Chi piped up first before Gohan could get a word in, looking at him sternly as he tried to speak with his mouth full, "Gohan is being a good boy and studying in the morning. Then I let him go train with his father after lunch until dinnertime. The poor boy is so tired after those sessions that sometimes he falls asleep in the middle of dinner. He's nothing like his father."

"Aw, c'mon Chi-Chi," Goku blurted out between mouthfuls of food, "You know he's got to work hard! Besides-" he gulped another two mouthfuls and set down his plate before finishing the sentence, "Piccolo is the one who's training him so hard!"

"Hey, where is Piccolo?" Bulma wondered out loud, "Isn't he supposed to be here with you?"

At this point Gohan popped into the conversation, "Piccolo is up at Kami's lookout today."

"I wonder what he's doing up there," Bulma said as she went to take a bite of fish. It was cooked wonderfully.

"I think he's a little 'homesick' and just wanted to spend the day with Kami," Goku laughed, followed by the other three. "Hey, speaking of homesick, how's Vegeta doing?"

Bulma bit hard on her chopstick at that question. She tried to avoid this the whole day, but it seemed that he was always being brought up by one person or another. She peered around to see that everyone had stopped eating and was staring intently towards her, which only made her feel more anxious.

"I didn't come all the way out here just to talk about Vegeta!" Bulma roared, though she had intended to sound more controlled than that. She saw that her reaction had caused Chi-Chi and Gohan to fall backwards onto the rug.

"Not so great, hey," Goku said, blissfully unaware of Bulma's foul temper. "He's like that, you just have to get used to it."

Bulma wasn't willing to talk about this any longer, changing the topic to Goku's driver's license, which resulted in his embarrassment and much laughter as Chi-Chi retold some of his faux pas.

* * *

The sun was beginning to set when Bulma decided that she should head home if she still wanted some sunlight to guide her travel. Gohan was running around the yard with Goku chasing him, both laughing carelessly as the wind carried their happy voices across the landscape. Bulma and Chi-Chi had finished clearing up a while before, and were both sitting in the grass gazing up at the sunset.

As they got to their feet, Goku and Gohan wandered over to say their goodbyes, and told Bulma to visit again soon. Bulma really appreciated spending time with old friends like this, and she knew that Chi-Chi was happy to have someone to talk to for once, as she usually spent her afternoons alone doing housework and cooking. Bulma pulled out her dynocap and let out her blue convertible, and Goku asked her if he could give it a test drive. Treading lightly, Bulma told him that this was only a prototype, and she needed to work out a few kinks before he could give it a go, but secretly was afraid that Goku would fly it into the side of the mountain.

She gave the three a hug each and stepped into the car, waving to them as she started the engine and lifted off. Gohan flew up into the air with her, flying around the car as Bulma nudged the accelerator, and took off towards her home. As she flew over the mountain, Gohan stopped and waved, before going back to his home. Now Bulma was alone, flying as the sky began to glow reds, oranges and blues while the sun set and stars began to appear overhead. It would be another hour before she was home, then she decided she would head straight for her lab and lock herself back in there before anyone noticed she was back.

It had been a good day spent retelling stories of her past with people she had known since before she was even out of high school. Well, for the most part anyway. Vegeta had somehow managed to sneak into the conversation a couple more times during the course of the day, with the same freaked out response from Bulma every time. Maybe he was a respected fighter with an inside softer than his rocky covering, but Bulma still wasn't yet ready to accept it again.


	17. Chapter 17

_My sincerest apologies for the lateness of this chapter relative to all my other posts. A combination of illness, followed by a full-on week leading up to a convention (in which I myself was Bulma for a day), followed by another illness had caused me to lag behind a little. To make it up to you I wrote a little more that I usually would, and decided to delve a little deeper into the crazed psyche that is Vegeta, through both the eyes of him and Bulma_. _I hope that was worth the wait._

_As always, Enjoy!_

* * *

Bulma gave a sigh of relief as she reached her bedroom door and closed it behind her with a dull thud. She slid to her knees as she tried to slow her heaving breaths, and her heart rate eventually calmed. This was the third day that she had dared to venture out of the security of her laboratory and back into the main wing her house, and she was growing tired of all of this sneaking around.

_I guess it's for the best,_ she said inwardly to herself.

Ever since he encounter with Vegeta barely a week before, all that Bulma could hope for was that he would magically disappear. However, he wasn't going anywhere as long as he had a quiet place to train. She was stuck with him. Bulma let her thoughts get the better of her, as she followed them back to that horrible, cold and frosty Sunday…

* * *

She was working in her lab on some piece of technology, as usual, and decided that she needed a break. After all, Bulma had been working for a good six or seven hours straight, and her eyes were beginning to go in and out of focus when she tried concentrating on schematics and equations. She had locked herself up again after her trip to the Son household, deciding that that escapade was enough excitement for a while, and hadn't come out since. In fact, Bulma's newfound seclusion from the outside world was now becoming a somewhat accepted norm, and her mother paid her 'visits' once every day with parcels of delicious food and sweets. Even Bulma was now starting to feel comfortable, and her anxiety was starting to subdue. Before, she was jumping at any unknown sound and, in the first days, she even found herself biting her lip as she reached to answer the telephone. The time had grown to three weeks of solitude, bar her escape attempt of a day with Chi-Chi and her family, though that was an invitation and not an idea of her own. Even though Bulma was in such a state, she didn't want to admit it to anyone else, and decided to play happy to fill in the charade.

It had been so long since any real conflict, that Bulma was beginning to question her own newfound reflexes that flinched as she opened a door, and took a nervous gulp as she stepped through. As she pondered this, she suddenly felt a jolt of terror as she found herself standing outside. She wasn't just outside the lab, or outside of the threshold separating the laboratory wing from that of the main house, but _outside._ Her feet, which were kept snug and warm in pink rabbit slippers, were standing on grass, and her body shivered as a gust of icy wind fluttered through her lab coat. She pulled it across her tighter as she gazed with her expression agape at the scene around her. The sky was dark with rain clouds, and the large spherical presence of the capsule pod stood before her, only a hundred metres away. She shook her head, wondering what mental delusion could have possibly subconsciously led her this way. It was possible that an old routine had kicked in whilst her mind was drifting, or perhaps, something inside of her was trying to confront the issue that had started this whole mess. Unable to decipher her actions, still shivering from the unexpected cold, Bulma decided to ponder this sudden mental mutiny and turned to go back inside. She couldn't, though.

As Bulma had turned, her eyes were faced with a mess of blue and black, and she felt her reflexes snap into place, taking over her slackened movements. The airy gaze she held only moments prior had now moulded itself into something of shock and fear, and she fumbled backwards, falling as she took her third staggering stride. Now she was even more afraid, and the figure towered before her; it was Vegeta. She couldn't work up enough of her mind to employ basic motor skills, despite the fact that it was screaming for her to flee. All that Bulma could manage was a startled, frightened look on her pale face, as she let her left hand guide itself to her other wrist.

"What's this?" Vegeta smiled coyly, as he studied Bulma's reactions. "And here I thought that you were dead… or have you just been avoiding me?"

Bulma didn't say anything, but kept her eyes on the Saiyan as she slowly let herself to her feet. He took a step towards her, and she replied with another away from him, which made Vegeta laugh harshly as if this were a game to him.

"I suppose you are taking the right actions, staying as far from me as you can. After all," he moved swiftly and was instantly right before Bulma, glaring down at her, "you have no idea what I can do to that likes of you."

He snapped at Bulma ferociously, and she fell backwards once again with an uncomfortable crunch on the freshly cut grass. He leered over her and muttered quietly to himself satisfyingly, "or maybe you do…"

Tears began to well up inside, but she refused to show this menace anything else that might give him some satisfaction in his actions. He remained where he was, toying with Bulma, until she could no longer handle being stared at with such contempt for so long. Just as she gave out and began to cry, she felt a cool trickle of water hit the back of her coat, as though on cue. As the rain fell down the air grew colder and it became harder to breathe as she wept, but she continued until her eyes held nothing more.

It had been a good five or so minutes since the rain had begun, developing into a torrent, pelting the ground, buildings, and her body. She was still scared, but had decided that it was no use trying to hide her fear from Vegeta; he was too clever to overlook everything. She peered up through blue streaks of hair in hopes that he had grown weary of this game, but felt her heart jump as she noticed him in the same exact stance as when she had lowered her head some time before, and he was grinning his sly smile of amusement; his delight at her pain. Although she was almost petrified, Bulma knew that she wanted nothing more than to just escape the situation, so she rose to her feet once more to face him. No words were exchanged as the two stared each other down, and then Bulma did something remarkable. In a split-second of what she didn't know was courage or plain stupidity, she took a lunge at Vegeta and kicked him hard in the shin. She knew that the action dealt no damage, but it did take him by surprise. After all, no scientist would take such a risk to themselves forgoing such a simple safety procedure by walking around in rabbit slippers. These were reinforced with heavy-duty chemical-safe materials, with super-conductive heat-retaining lamb's wool dyed cotton-candy pink, complete with whiskers, googly eyes and a cute button nose… as well as featuring a steel cap embedded beneath the material on the toe.

* * *

All that Bulma could remember happening next was running with all of her might, fleeing the scene of the crime. She could vividly recall her heart beating furiously in her throat and the wind lashing against her cheeks as she scampered away, somehow able to summon more tears. She had opened the side door leading into the house, and then slammed it behind her with no regard for anything else. It was then that her memory became ragged and jumpy. She could tell that closing that door had suddenly silenced everything, as if it was all suddenly locked away, but there was a strong urge pulling at her, telling her she wasn't safe yet. So she ran. Her slippers left squelchy footprints along the hallway, and she slid uncomfortable across the tiles as she tried to take a sharp corner. Soon she was cutting across expansive living areas, barging through numerous doors. The automatic lights flickered on as they sensed the presence of movement, and through the corner of her eye they seemed like some maddened game of dominos, dimming up and down, one after the other. The whole ambience only left her more frazzled, and she took a wrong turn, falling face-first into a door she didn't calculate would be there.

"Oof!" she let out a muffled groan as she faceplanted into the large arching doorway, which then slid open by way of two concealed automatic panels. Bulma didn't have time to steady herself, and instead fell inwards onto the cool soft grass. "G… grass?" she muttered to herself questioningly, but it only took a few short seconds until she kicked back into gear.

Bulma shot her head upwards and peered beyond the threshold, which revealed to indeed be no room. She instinctively rubbed her forehead on the spot that she hit it. She was cold, sore, and confused, and her heart rate was still somewhere near its peak. She tried to get her bearings, as she stood up by the open door. Peering from left to right, grassed terrain to tiled corridor, Bulma came to the conclusion that she was lost within the humongous mansion that was her home. Maybe she was suffering from a concussion, or she just didn't care anymore, and something inside her head was telling her that it was safe enough to venture through and into this new area, so she loyally followed her gut feeling.

Even though the layout of the floor plan that she had just run didn't agree with her conclusions, Bulma thought to herself that this was most likely the indoor garden that her father had built to house their many adopted pets. Even though she didn't go in often by herself alone, this was often a fairy quiet sanctuary at night, somewhere calm and peaceful to sit and think. Her most recent encounter with this 'room' had been more than a month ago when she sat on a wooden bench and verbalised her first set of doubts about Yamcha since he had been revived from death. She trudged through the cold wet grass, clinging to her lab coat, as she began to notice that the air was becoming frostily cold. There was no light, which she expected was because everything here was sleeping, but she moved along as best as she could, trying to find that familiar landmark.

Soon, Bulma was shivering uncontrollably, and she looked back behind herself to see that the doorway she had entered through had once again closed its automatic sliding panels. There was no way to tell from which direction she had come, and she was unsure of where exactly she was at that moment. Unable to control her shaky legs for much longer, she decided that at least she was in a safe place, far from the horrible outside that this resembled, away from the scowling grin of Vegeta. She had no way of knowing that she had been out here for close to half an hour, or that it was past one in the morning, other than the fact that her eyes grew weary. She let herself lay down on the icy grass, her soaking body becoming numb to the cold, and let herself rest for a while. At least once the sun came up, she would be able to pick herself up and leave before anyone noticed she was even gone. After all, it was fast becoming a custom that she would be hidden away from everyone for weeks on end. Bulma drew a heavy sigh, letting her mind wander once more among thoughts that she had stored deep inside. As she let herself relax, she wondered where that bench was, and why she couldn't hear the running of water from the fountain like she did the last time she was here. She closed her eyes, her breath now calm, and turned her head to it was facing straight upwards. With a sleepy groan, she rubbed one of her closed eyes, and then the sore lump on her forehead. It was painful, and caused her eye to open just a fraction. A moment later, she drifted off to sleep, with thoughts of stars shining overhead.

* * *

Vegeta sat poised on the top step of the capsule pod in the darkness of the night. He was very much amused at his encounter beforehand with the silly earthling woman whom he had not seen for quite some time now. Although he mentioned it to her that he thought she was dead, Vegeta was now skilled enough to pick up even the most minute traces of life energy, and knew that this whole time she had locked herself away, most certainly too frightened to come out into the real world. All the frenzies of living in this estate had evaporated once that woman had managed to go AWOL, and life had drifted into a sombre and dull routine that could be relied upon flawlessly. Such a life was a boring one, and was beginning to beat down on Vegeta's mind as each day rolled by into another.

What he needed was some action, some excitement. What good was a highly trained mind of a warrior of it could never be used? That is to say, the nature of Bulma, to Vegeta, was one that gave him a rush of exhilaration with every contact. She was unpredictable, and he could never tell which route she would take in an argument. This was the same for all of her reactions, wether related to the Saiyan Prince or not. Vegeta had known since the very day that she had decided to confine herself where she was and what she was doing, and managed to sneak in at least a few minutes of every day to keep tabs on her physical and mental condition. This skill was something that he had learned quickly from his days serving under Freeza, something that he realised had come only too easily. To be able to watch an opponent, to observe their actions, is something that every great warrior must accomplish in order to overcome the more serious battles. This, is exactly what he was doing with the woman, only this was game more than any fight.

For days Vegeta had kept watch over his prey, studying her to anticipate when she would most likely venture outside for some 'fresh air'. The laboratory was underground and in a far-off corner of the estate, and he did not wish to trouble himself with security codes and stumbling through a labyrinth of rooms undetected, so he used this as a sort of training for himself. He perched himself on the pinnacle of the dome of the commercial side of the property, and tuned into her life energy. From there he 'listened' to her flow, the peaks and troughs acting similar to soundwaves. Although it was bothersome that she was so stubborn to not leave the safety of her lab, Vegeta calmed his nerve by reasoning that this could prove useful for future battles, and carried on. He decided that with enough practise, he might even be able to leave a skill such as that running in the background of his mind while he worried about more important things. It was something much more interesting and rewarding to spend his time on than wasting idle chit-chat with the other members of the household (despite the fact that he never uttered responses in more than two syllables at a time, which doesn't even constitute for real conversation). Then, on the evening of one Sunday, Vegeta noticed a change in her energy, as if she had dropped her guard ever so slightly. He grinned to himself in the looming darkness, as he began his long-awaited game.

He didn't know what to expect from her, and began to run through his head numerous things that he could to do mess with her and receive some sort of glorious reaction. He began to feel that the midnight sky was growing chilly, and he flared his energy ever so slightly to protect himself from the cold. As he sat and thought, he noticed a sliver of light coming from the door nearest to the capsule gravity pod in the back of the property. He traced the aura of the being creating the disturbance, and grinned evilly as he realised it was her. This was all just too easy, as if everything was tumbling in his lap so perfectly. He sat and watched for a few seconds more, and as he saw her shake her head in a daze, he made his move.

* * *

The evening was growing into a mighty one, and he could not remember having so much fun in such a long, long time. Finally he decided that now would be as good a time as ever to retire to his room and rest up for the new day of training ahead, and he set off from the top step of the pod which he sat on towards the door. He was in such a pleasant mood with himself that he decided to take the long way around, and enjoy the brisk air for as long as he could. With that the Saiyan Prince plodded happily through the wet grass in the starkness of the dark evening.

As he made his way around the back of the building, Vegeta approached one of the main doors leading inside, but stopped in his tracks before he was even 50 metres away. An icy wave of cold streaked down his back, sending shivers to his spine. It was a sensation of something familiar, that he had studied so intently for the past few days. He looked down to his feet and at merely an arms-length away, she lay there on the cold damp grass. His first reaction was amazement, that she would be out here sleeping on the grass, and that he didn't realise this until just now. This was a discovery indeed, that he had put so much fright into her heart that it caused her to collapse in a usually secluded area of the complex, despite the fact that he didn't even bother to pursue her after she fled their earlier encounter. He cocked a sly grin and stared down at her body, twitching as his shadow from the stars above cast over her. Her dreams caused her discomfort, and she was not sleeping peacefully at all. It was a sight to behold, and it quenched his sadistic side admirably.

At a second glance, Vegeta could soon tell that the cold was doing her harm, sapping her of her energy. This was probably why he didn't notice her until just moments ago. He knew that he would have to set aside his ego and help the fool, lest she come to any serious harm. After all, she was the one person who helped him out when he was in danger, and despite his disgruntlement at this, he knew that she would probably hide herself away even longer if she found herself out here in the cold after remembering the events of the night. This would not do at all, as she was is number one source of entertainment and escape from the mindless blather of everyday life on this pathetic little planet.

He gave a heavy sigh and knew what he had to do. He bent over and scooped up her limp body in his arms, carrying her carefully to not disturb her. Although he was helping her, he was doing so grudgingly, and kept his brows furrowed as he walked towards the sliding doors by the house. If anyone were to see them like this, he just might have to cause some physical harm to someone again, even though he had decided that that was not the best method to use in this place. Humans were so emotionally weak, and followed these feelings over logic, which meant that he had to endure their customs of keeping the peace rather than let them have a piece of his mind every time they did something weak and futile. It was several minutes later when he managed to find her room, and he tossed her gently onto her bed, neglecting to care about her soaked clothing, or covering her with a blanket. This was the extent of his 'kindness' he was willing to give, and he stared down at her for a moment longer before he exited her room.

"You truly are a foolish woman… Bulma."

* * *

That next morning Bulma had woken up in drenched sheets, still shivering from the cold. Her eyes were sore from crying, and her forehead had managed to grow a large and noticeable bump. As she rose from her bed, she cursed quietly at how sore and cold she was, then at how her bed was soaking wet and that it would need changing. Then a mad thought came to her mind, something she had not gotten to until just then: exactly how did she get to her room from the night before?

Bulma suddenly stood frozen in place as a shocked look enveloped her pace. She couldn't move a muscle, but her mind was working furiously to piece everything together. Her mother was too weak and oblivious to care to move her, and her father had a bad back. No other person that she could think of would have been there that night, Yamcha stopped his visits after she refused to leave her lab, and _she_ certainly didn't remember waking up and walking back to her room. Something fishy was going on, and it was freaking her out again.

Hesitantly, Bulma walked to her ensuite and took a shower to calm her frosty nerves. Although it helped her aching body, it did nothing for her racing mind, which was trying feverishly to replay the events of the previous night over and over to unveil some sort of revelation. But it was all to no avail, which left only one final reason as to why she woke up here and not where she fell. It was frightening and creepy, and she decided to herself that from now on, it was safe enough to come here if she made a run for it in a cryptic pattern, but she was definitely _not_ going outside ever again.


	18. Chapter 18

Holy Cow! It's an Update! I hope it makes you giggle, because it did for me.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Yeah hi, can I get a double cheese pizza," Bulma said irately through the receiver. She had spent the better part of five minutes on hold by the local pizzeria, and was starting to become agitated. She wasn't used to ordering out, and usually was spoilt by her mother's cooking, but this evening the house was empty; her parents had gone out to see some theatre programme that she didn't care enough about to recall from their conversations. Still locked up in her room, Bulma decided to sulk instead of venture out to the kitchen and fetch herself something on her own. That is, until her stomach began to grumble. Now here she was stuck in her room in the dark manor all alone. Thanks to her adventures with Goku, Bulma had hardened up a lot since adolescence, but that meant nothing now that it had been so long, especially after all that had happened recently.

"Sorry ma'am, but we seem to run out of cheese," came a disinterested voice from the other side of the phone.

"What do you mean, you've run out of cheese? Isn't cheese a main ingredient of pizza!" trust her to get stuck in some sort of unnecessary situation. She rolled her eyes at a the ceiling, as though she was expecting this.

"Well… that is the problem. This seems to happen a lot on our busy nights," the voice said indifferently.

"So what are you going to do about it? I'm hungry!" she shouted over the phone.

"If you just wait patiently, ma'am, we have another delivery arriving shortly."

"This is ridiculous!"

"Do you want the pizza or not?"

"How dare you speak to me like that! You have no idea who I am!"

"It doesn't matter. If you don't want the pizza, there are lots of other people who do."

There was something about this person on the other end of the line that reminded Bulma of someone she knew, as if nothing in the world seemed to matter, and there was no person who had suffered greater hardships in life. The thought made her shudder, and she quickly ended the conversation, agreeing to the wait time and giving her address. Just before she hung up the phone, she made a request that the delivery driver enter through the back gate; there was no way that she was going to go all the way through her massive house when the lazy prick could just come right to her. That was, after all, the whole point of delivery, right?

"Your order should be with you in about an hour or two. Bye," and the phone was slammed down at the other end. Bulma stared at her receiver blankly for a moment, before tossing it across her room in a fit. She hadn't been so furious in such a long time, and it felt oddly strange; recently the emotion that swept across her mind in most situations was fright. This seemingly uneventful night was fast becoming a weird one… after all, what sort of idiot would forget to order enough cheese?

* * *

The wind was unseasonably warm as it rolled across the evening scenery in West City. Vegeta sat perched upon the top of the tallest dome of the Briefs household, looking out over the hustle and bustle that was that Friday night. For some reason, he didn't feel compelled to train quite as hard as he usually did, and he decided to take a break much earlier than he was used to. Normally, he was out well into the early hours of the next morning, when everyone was asleep, but now the lights of the city fluoresced brightly towards the sky and irritated his eyes. Vegeta always had issues with bright lights; he hated it when his fighting abilities were negatively influenced because of something as stupid as the sun in his eyes, and he detested the fact even more ever since his first fight with Goku and that wretched 'Solar Flare' technique.

Just thinking about the past caused Vegeta to flare up, his blood simmering slightly and coming close to a boil. He clenched one of his fists angrily and felt his face tense up as he flickered back mentally to that fateful day. It infuriated him so greatly that someone so feeble would go on to trump all of his efforts without any trouble, stunning his ego so spectacularly. If it weren't for that worthless excuse for a Saiyan, Vegeta, the _Prince_ of all Saiyans, _his_ superior, wouldn't be stuck on this godforsaken mud ball of a planet.

He sighed inwardly and decided that all this mental exercise was working him up, and felt the motivation to go back inside his little training capsule and really hit something. However, just as he was about to shift from his post, he noticed a strange energy approaching. It was weak, and definitely human, but he could feel absolute loathing emanating from its body. He flew down to a lower spire to gather a closer look, his curiosity stronger-willed than his rage.

From above, he watched a kid jump off of a scooter in the evening radiance, and trundle his way to the front door. With heightened senses, he could smell a noticeable aroma coming from the kid. No, it was in the bag he was carrying. Vegeta had never encountered this scent before, but it was certainly something that caught his interest. As he tried it visualise what it could be, he noticed some new movement in the corner of his eye from the other end of the complex. Strangely enough, he thought it was Bulma he saw, halfway out of her bedroom window. Even stranger, that was exactly what it was. The blue-haired woman was yelling at the top of her voice at the kid by the front door, though he could obviously not hear her. It had been such a long time since Vegeta had heard this woman in a blaze, and it was somewhat pleasing to see. More than her feeblish whimpering of late, anyway.

This scene carried on for about a minute, with the kid stationary at the front of the house, and Bulma yelling from the other end. Then, remarkably right before his eyes, Vegeta witnessed the now furious Bulma do something he certainly did not expect. She had hopped over the railing and was now climbing several stories down from her bedroom to the ground. He chuffed at this sight, as he saw her struggle her way down in nothing more than a robe and her bunny slippers. To add to this amazing display, she was shouting numerous profanities, most of which he had never heard, but assumed they must be at the very least something impolite to say to a total stranger. But what was he doing analysing how poor mannered that crazy woman was being? The sight was entertaining as hell, especially now that he hadn't had the recent pleasure of stirring her up in the once usual argumentative way, and he was enjoying every moment of it.

"Waagh!" a loud shriek came from Bulma's direction and Vegeta caught a glimpse of her in the air, and then suddenly crumpled on the ground. The foolish woman had managed to lose her grip and fall one and a half stories to the ground right into a flowerbed. He felt himself tense slightly, but relaxed once he noticed her pulling herself up and onto the path towards the front door, cursing everything that passed her by. And incredibly, he found himself laughing. Vegeta took heaved breaths in the warm air as he barked with laughter at this strange event that was taking place right before his eyes, and he silently thanked himself for taking a break at such an hour. It was certainly an amusing way to pass the time.

After a few minutes, Bulma had managed to make her way to the front door and was halfway through a vicious rant at the odd kid that could surely be heard over the fence by surrounding households, which was no easy feat considering the size of the grounds. Vegeta watched as she snatched a box from the indifferent kid and glared him out of the driveway and back to his scooter. Once he was out of sight, Bulma wriggled the doorknob expectantly, but didn't move. This made Vegeta laugh once more as he heard her cries, the loudest yet, as she realised that the front door was locked. This had undoubtedly become an interesting night, and he had plans to shake things up even more.

* * *

Bulma slammed her palm against the front door one last time before she turned to face away from it and slouched onto the ground. Why, oh why, had she been so stupid? She was so angry with the dumb teenager who was delivering her pizza for not coming round the back that she had almost blown a fuse. She rested her face in her hands as she tried to remember where she had gone wrong. Of course, that dumb kid wouldn't have heard her yells from so far away up her window and around the other side of the massive estate, but that hadn't stopped her from trying. And then she had stumbled forward, lost her footing, and found herself dangling off of the side of the building, three stories in the air! There was no way of getting back into her room, as her window had shut itself on her way out, so her only choice was down. Luckily it was warm outside, but that still didn't do much to help the fact that she was wearing her pyjamas under a robe. At least she had her steel-toe rabbit slippers on, which made it a little easier to climb down, but one slipped off halfway through her descent, and the result left her rocketing down to Earth with a gasp and a thud followed by a low pained groan. She remembered muttering to herself that she would feel that in the morning, but was determined to give that stupid pizza kid a piece of her mind. After all, she had been treated like rubbish over the phone, and now they were putting her through this just because they were too lazy to walk a little further, or too stupid to follow instructions. She didn't know which was worse.

Bulma's throat was sore from yelling, and her backside had certainly seen better days than this one. Nonetheless, Bulma now had her pizza in her lap, three hours after she had ordered it, and even if she was locked out, covered in dirt, and sitting on the cold bricked floor, she was going to savour it. But that feeling didn't last long.

She had just bitten into her first slice of pizza, noticing that it was stale and not even lukewarm when she felt a strange shiver run down her spine. It was a subconscious movement, something that she could have never anticipated knowingly – she had felt the aura of someone else's energy approach. She looked up through her blue bangs, but saw no one standing in front of her. Convinced she was imagining things, she continued to bite down on her horrible, yet somehow satisfying pizza, when she felt the odd twinge again. This time when she looked up she noticed something to the side of her field of view. As she moved to get a better look, she dropped the slice she was holding back into the box and stared with her mouth agape. Vegeta was standing a matter of metres away from her, watching her intently with his cold, dark eyes.

* * *

Bulma could feel herself becoming stiff and unable to move, as her heart tried frantically to leap out of her chest and take cover elsewhere. She felt pools of sweat start to gather at her temples, and they ran down the sides of her face like the tears she didn't dare shed. She didn't know what to do, stuck outside with no way of running to protection. Like a deer in headlights, she watched the as her greatest fear approached without warning. It took all that she had not to scream.

When he was close enough that she could make out all the features on his face, Vegeta stopped, his arms folded and his shadow in the dim light stretching across the front porch. But the look that was on his face was something other than what Bulma had expected… it was something more of quizzical interest rather than malicious tenacity. She felt slightly less threatened, but still in fear for her life. It was then that he opened his mouth.

"What in blazes is that foul creation?" he said with a look of disgust, indicating the half-eaten pizza that was in Bulma's lap.

"P… pizza," Bulma stammered in response. It was a wonder that she could speak at all, with the combination of her sore throat and the frozen astonishment at being so close to this barbarian all of a sudden.

"Pi-what?" he asked again, clearly dumbfounded by the concept.

It was then that Bulma realised that Vegeta had probably never experienced Western food before. Sure, her mother had quite a sweet tooth for cakes and sweet teas, but in the Briefs household the main cuisine was Japanese. She then wondered for a moment if there was anything in the universe he could have experienced quite like Western food; there was something about eating with bare hands that made it so appealing, but distasteful at the same time. She was then rudely interrupted by a low grunt from the Saiyan, and snapped back into reality.

"It's food…" she trailed off, not sure how detailed he wanted her to be.

"Of course I can see that it's food! You've been shoving it in your mouth, what else could it be!" he bellowed hastily, which made Bulma jump a little. Noticing this, he changed his tone somewhat, "it doesn't look very appetising."

"Well… it's cold, so it's kind of gross," she said slowly, taking her time to find each word, "but normally it's good."

She was amazed at how calm Vegeta was being around her, nothing at all like her most recent nightmares of him chasing her through dark labyrinths with his fiendish cackles. Even in reality, up close he was quite frightening with his deep glowers and harsh tones. It was a wonder how at one point in time she could resemble him to something akin to 'cute'.

A chill began to ring through the air, and the warmth was overtaken within only a few moments. Bulma was still stationary in her posture, and felt herself begin to shudder, this time because of the cold. She longed so wholeheartedly for the door to suddenly open so that she could run inside and throw her pillow over her head. Maybe if she closed her eyes then it would all go away, but her attempt was fruitless, and caused Vegeta to speak up once again.

"If it's that bad, then don't eat it," she heard him sneer through her closed eyes.

"No… it's not that…"

There was a rustling sound close to her body for a moment, and then as soon as it started, it disappeared. Uneasy of what was going on, Bulma let her eyes slowly creep open. Vegeta was no longer standing in front of her, but instead she made out a figure in her peripherals. This time she actually did give out a yelp as she turned to see that he was now _sitting next to her_, his back to the door just like hers. He ignored the sound she made, and also disregarded the sudden tension in her body, as if she had turned to stone. Instead, he turned to face her expectantly.

"Well, let me try it then," he said, but was given no response, as Bulma was still stiff as a statue. His expression lowered to something of repugnance at the state she was in, and he sighed to himself as he tugged his dirty gloves off. Then, with his bare hands, he snatched up a slice of cheese pizza and tasted it. Bulma could do nothing but watch as he moved so close to her person; she was trapped. She then looked on as Vegeta toyed with the food in his mouth, like a lion with a mouse caught between his teeth. He then made an odd expression and turned back to Bulma.

"Disgusting," he spat, "but better than nothing."

It then dawned upon Bulma that she wasn't alone in her predicament; Vegeta also depended on her mother for all of his meals, and he wasn't used to being left out in the dark with an empty stomach. She then decided to raise this point to him.

"Did…" she began, still uneasy with being so close to the Saiyan, "Er… are you hungry?"

Vegeta gave her a dirty look, as though she had insulted him, and replied with a curt 'no', but his stomach gave him away with a mighty grumble before another awkward silence could ensue. Bulma suddenly felt a little guilty that she had this food, and wanted to offer it up to him, despite how terrible it was, but she was starving too. After all, it was almost midnight by now, and she hadn't eaten anything since late morning, and she didn't have a clue as to when her folks would arrive home. Also, she knew of a Saiyan's appetite, and that half of a cold pizza wouldn't even begin to satisfy that bottomless pit.

"I… could order more?" she said reluctantly, questioning not only Vegeta but also herself. This wouldn't prove anything, and it meant that she would have to spend _more_ time with the one person who gave her the heebie-jeebies. To her relief, he gave no reply, sitting still in his place examining the half-eaten pizza in his hands.

The two sat that way in complete silence for a long time, Vegeta trying to make sense of this new food, and Bulma trying to ignore the fact that she was sitting right next to him. She pleaded silently for her parents to return, and tried to turn her attention to something else. She couldn't bear to have another slice of pizza, for fear of making any sudden movements by reaching towards the box on her lap. Instead, she focused on how cold it was suddenly becoming. It seemed like it was not only a product of the evening breeze that was sweeping by, but also the cold tension between the two. She had at one point in time been so confident around others, even as far as thinking herself impervious to their crass remarks and ludicrous judgements of her. She had even come so far as to be unintimidated by the very man that was sitting next to her. Now, she wanted only to be as far away from him as possible.

The thoughts formed billowy pools that swelled around her head, and created clouds to her judgement, growing as each minute of silence passed. In fact, the effect was so strong that Bulma eventually began to forget where she was, letting her body become numb and her mind float on these clouds. She had then noticed a twig tangled harshly in her messy hair and had reached to tug it out, when a bright light beam seemed to approach her suddenly. Instinctively she flinched, imagining that it was some sort of beam attack that she knew of only too well from her experiences with her friends… but they weren't supposed to make that sort of sound. She blinked hard to see the familiar capsule car that her father loved trundling down the lengthy drive, stopping by her at the foot of the porch. Her mother and father had finally arrived back at home.

* * *

"Bulma!" Bunny shrieked in alarm as she stepped out of the capsule car to find her daughter slouched against the front door. She was wearing only her night robe and rabbit slippers, her clothing and face covered in dirt, and stray twigs and leaves stuck to her like an oddly shaped porcupine.

"Mom!" Bulma gasped, as she leapt up from the floor, tossing the pizza box aside and embracing her mother tightly. She didn't care that Vegeta was still so close, or that her grubby attire was rubbing onto her mother's expensive dress. All she knew at that moment was that she was safe.

"What are you doing out here? It's past midnight!" Bunny asked loudly as she struggled for breath in Bulma's tight embrace.

"It's a long story…"

"Well let's get you inside and out of the cold."

She awkwardly ushered Bulma into the house, still tightly latched on, with her husband leading, and Vegeta obediently following suit, the lights in the hallway flickering on as the four stepped inside. It was then that Bulma finally let go of her mother to speak, but didn't realise that she was side-stepping right into the spot that Vegeta was standing. Her back hit his chest, and she practically jumped out of her skin when she realised this, her face turning a remarkable shade of white. Bunny laughed in her odd way at this, completely oblivious to any tension in the room.

"Oh, Bulma! You're a funny one!" she giggled as she watched Bulma slink to the opposite side of the room in a flash.

"It's not funny mom!" she cried. Bunny then realised the seriousness in her voice and moved her hands to rest on her hips in a defiant manner.

"Are you _still_ acting like that?" she said curtly, but still managed to keep a light air to her voice. "It's been more than a month! And here I was hoping you would come to your senses and apologise to this poor boy," she motioned towards Vegeta. "He'll make such a good husband."

"Mom!" Bulma couldn't bear to let those words sink into her head. It was all that she could do to keep herself from crying, let alone do anything else. Then her mother turned and walked right up to her and looked her straight in the face. What happened next, Bulma wasn't sure if it had happened or not, but she did remember a tingling sensation on her numb cheek. If her mind wasn't playing tricks on her, she would have sworn that her mother had just slapped her hard on the face. She didn't know such a sweet lady was capable of such a thing, but the tingling soon became a sting, and the sound from the motion was still echoing through the silent hallway. Both men were trying to look away, but expressions of disbelief hung on their faces as starkly as the frosty air.

"Oh my!" Bunny exclaimed, now in her usual cheerful tone, as if nothing had ever happened, "I didn't leave you two anything to eat while we were gone!" She clasped her hands together in an apologetic stance, asking if Bulma and Vegeta had eaten. Both shook their heads uneasily in response and her face frowned a little.

"I'm so tired from tonight, I couldn't possibly cook for you… I know," she clenched her hands into a pose of victory as she spoke the next words, "how about a little treat. I'll bet that cute little pizza place down the road is still open for deliveries!"

Bulma slapped her hand against her forehead and turned to head towards her room. She had had enough of these shenanigans, and was anxious to execute her original plan of hiding under her covers for the rest of that night and waiting for the next day. Her mother was too engrossed in conversation with Vegeta about ordering food and her father was also keen to get some shut-eye. She walked with him a little down the hall, and then stopped for a goodnight hug once they reached their crossroads.

"Dad," Bulma squeaked softly over his shoulder as they embraced, but he already knew what she was going to say.

"Bulma," came his quick reply, "maybe it's time to move on from all of this."

She pulled back from his arms and gave a puzzled look, struggling to find the words to question him. He simply gave her a soft smile and a pat on the head.

"I think you've been acting a little out of character of late."


	19. Chapter 19

_Howdy! Sorry for the massive delay on this chapter. There's just something about hospitals and medication that makes days go by so much faster than when we're well. I hope you all forgive me - this is quite a bit longer than the usual._

_If anyone is confused, the chapter begins on a Monday and then backtracks to show the events of that weekend just passed.  
_

_Enjoy!  
_

* * *

The sun shone brightly over West City that following Monday morning, and the place warmed up gently with the help of a warm front that swept from inland. Bunny slid the kitchen curtains to the side to open the window and let in the sweet scent of her garden. She felt a deep appreciation for the change in weather on many levels, and was glad to see the sun was no longer hidden behind a veil of thick, dark rain clouds as it had been since Saturday morning, the day after her theatre visit. Although they were well into winter, it had been unseasonably warm and she had grown accustomed to it, but the sudden downpour had given her garden a well-needed watering, making everything look much more refreshed and shone with a newfound glow. Well… the same couldn't exactly be said of her household.

Because of all of the trouble that had been going on recently, Bunny thought that she would step in for once and try to mend the broken 'friendships' her dear daughter and the kind 'gentleman' she was boarding possessed. She just knew that if given a nudge in the correct direction, the two could get along famously, and an idea had sparked within her. Bunny decided that she would prove that she was the most wonderful mother, setting her determination alight and showing that she was more than just a pretty face.

She looked around at her kitchen, shaking her head as she evaluated the damage. _Today is going to be a long day_, she thought to herself, as she tried to remember exactly how a plate of spaghetti came to position itself to awkwardly dangle from the ceiling. However, instead of worrying about spilt milk, particularly the carton that lay splattered over half of the floor giving it a sticky coating, she grabbed a mop and began to scrub.

* * *

THUD. THUD. Groan.

A dull banging noise could be heard along the hallway leading to Bulma's bedroom on the morning after she had locked herself outside. The source was, in fact, Bulma hitting her forehead against her door as she tried desperately to think of a plan to escape this circus tent. Surely, Bulma could run away to any other family on this planet and not have to endure the torment that she did here; at least she could rely on the fact that there was only one Vegeta, and he was quite content to stay put, geographically speaking. All she would need to do is make some calls, get a fake ID, and perhaps dye her hair.

"Uhh… nothing works with this blue hair!" she groaned to herself nonsensically, trying to imagine herself as a blonde like her mother.

After ten minutes of whacking her head against her door with an occasional thud, she finally resigned herself and deemed this train of thought to be fruitless. She sighed heavily and turned to look at the clock by side her bed. The face read 9:22am, which was a little disappointing to see, but explained why her head was on fire on the inside, unaided by the by the damage she had dealt in that past few minutes. The night before she had been sitting outside her house for well over two hours, and wasn't actually in bed until about 2:30am. The combination of sleep deprivation, mental exhaustion, and trauma had created a sickly concoction that now swam inside her mind. _At least it's Saturday_, she thought to herself.

Not knowing what else to do, Bulma dressed herself modestly enough, throwing a robe over her pyjamas as she usually did on a weekend, and made her way to the kitchen; maybe something in her belly would combat her perpetual motion sickness. She trundled her way along the common pathway that she had known for as long as she could remember, not bothering to take in any of her surroundings. In fact, she was so out of it that by the time she reached the kitchen, she sat straight down at the dining table and slouched to rest her head in her arms on the table surface. By this point it was too late; she was trapped in the spider's web.

"Good morning Bulma dear," came a sweet welcome from her mother, as a plate of food was placed before her. She was always able to sense when she was needed in the kitchen, which made her a very reliable and well-respected wife and mother to her family.

Bulma peered up from her elbows to look at the plate before her; her mother had gone all-out on waffles with syrup and ice cream. It looked delicious, like having dessert for breakfast, or something like that. "Thanks mom," she said sleepily as she slowly reached for her fork.

"You're welcome dear," Bunny replied, "and here you are Vegeta," she continued as she set down a large plate of bacon opposite Bulma's seat. As she glanced up and over her plate, it suddenly became clear that she wasn't the only person at the table. For some reason Bulma wasn't as tense as she had been in the past weeks, but she was still uneasy. It didn't matter though, as Vegeta seemingly paid her no attention in return.

After ten minutes of an uncomfortable silence, broken only by Bunny's cheerful humming as she shuffled around in the kitchen, Vegeta had finished several platefuls of food, and was about to head for the training pod as he usually did. But as he pushed his chair backwards from the table to get up, he noticed that Bunny had firmly placed her foot behind it. Although it was obvious that he could overpower the woman, he was always cautious not to set her off in any way, and so, he put on an inquisitive look and let her say what she wanted to say. It was easier this way, as he knew only too well. By this time, Bulma was sitting with her head buried in her arms on the table once more, trying to ignore both the dull throbbing at the back of her head and the goings-on around her. However, the shrillness of her mother's voice jolted her from her sleepy trance, and caused her to look up as she watched her fate unfold.

"Oh Vegeta, surely you aren't expecting to go outside today!" Bunny squealed in concern towards the bulky Saiyan, who clearly didn't like what she was saying. "It's raining, and I don't want you to catch a cold."

"I never get sick, we Saiyans have a superior immune system to you Earthlings," he sneered in protest, but Bunny wasn't going to give up so easily.

"Dear, I work so hard every day to make sure you have good food to eat, clothing to wear, and a comfortable bed to sleep in. Surely, you understand that I'd feel bad if you fell ill while in my care," she chirped whilst Vegeta rolled his eyes. "I think you should stay inside while it's raining outside, just to be safe."

There were concerned looks on both faces sitting at the table, as neither liked what they were hearing. For Bulma, this was a violation of her privacy. She didn't feel right to go do any work in her lab today, and wanted to just lounge around the house, but this couldn't happen with that oaf spoiling the atmosphere. For Vegeta, however, this was much more of a moral dilemma. He had recently heard rumours that Goku and his son were already reaching new peaks to their training, whereas he still couldn't muster up the ability to reach anywhere near Super Saiyan; as far as he could tell, he was still only halfway. Should he decide to stay inside until the rain subdued, he would be missing an unknowable amount of training time, which was so precious to him. However, to disobey this woman might mean any number of irritating consequences, including the denial of food, or even worse, that infernal woman's harping-on.

Bunny noticed the internal conflict Vegeta was struggling with. As she watched him involuntarily clench his fists on the table, she piped up with the rest of her plan. "How about you spend some time with Bulma!" she exclaimed as she clapped her hands together cheerfully, ignoring groans from both parties, "she gets awfully bored on the weekends, and locks herself up all alone in her room. You two would make good company for each other."

"Mom!" Bulma cried, fed up at this point. "Why don't you just let him do his stupid training? He's trying to save the world, or at least that's what he wants you to believe." She slouched back into her chair, folding her arms crossly.

"I'm sure one day isn't going to change much. All work and no play makes Vegeta a dull boy!" she responded, as she placed her hands now on Vegeta's shoulders as she moved to stand behind him to get a better view of the other side of the table.

With that, Bulma decided she had heard enough. She slid her chair back forcefully, screeching across the marble tiles, and rose promptly to storm out of the kitchen and straight for her bedroom. So many thoughts were running through her already aching mind that she felt like she could scream. Just the previous night, her mother had told her to 'come to her senses', right after delivering a brisk slap across her face. Bulma put her hand on her cheek, still in disbelief that that event had actually happened. Bunny was always such a calm and caring woman who, although she always did what she wanted in the end, was happy to go along with others without question. What was this nonsensical meddling about that was causing her to become such a different person, if only for a glimpse of a second? Unless she was actually being straightforward about everything all along, and actually expected these two to actually end up together… Bulma often thought of the day she'd be with her dream guy, living it up in the lap of luxury, and Vegeta didn't fit the bill. Besides, she was still together with Yamcha, even if it was just barely. At least that was something she could still be sure of.

* * *

The day rolled by slowly, as the rain continued to fall with no hope of letting up. Bulma had stayed true to her whims and remained locked within the confines of her bedroom sulking. She was in a terrible mood, but it could not be anything as dreadful as what the proud Prince was feeling at that moment. Once a carefree soul who did exactly what he pleased, when he pleased, Vegeta now sat in the library grumbling under his breath as he tried to take his mind off of how much time he was wasting. To add to this problem, Bunny kept popping in every half hour to check up on him, making sure that he was comfortable and had his tea topped up (but she never had the chance to refill the dainty little teacup that perched on a table, which was ignored completely).

At several points in the day, Vegeta tried slipping out of the house, but his plans were foiled every time by the happy housewife. It was ludicrous how he was so skilled and could move so quickly, yet was unable to detect her presence until he was right at the door, and she spotted him. By the time dusk fell into evening, Vegeta was in foul spirits, detesting the fact that he could not stand up to such a powerless woman. Unbeknownst to anyone, Dr Briefs made a game of the day, occupying a nearby sitting room, and chuckling to himself silently at each of these escapades and the reaction on Vegeta's face. It was the first time that he had shown any true weakness since his collapse, and he seemed to be, if ever so slowly, becoming more and more human as the days rolled on.

Dr and Mrs Briefs carried on cheerfully with their day off as they usually did, seemingly unaware of the sickly aura of abhorrence that filled certain parts of their home. In light of what was happening, Bunny decided to cook a roast chicken dinner to lift spirits and encourage a warmer attitude towards each other being together as a family, Vegeta included. The delicious scent wafted down hallways and under the cracks of doors, eventually reaching both Bulma and Vegeta (neither of whom had eaten anything in their entire day of sulking). In response to this, both parties eventually came out of their rabbit holes and made their way to the dining hall, which was set in a gorgeous array. Bulma was bemused that the fine china had been set, as they usually only sat at the table in the kitchen except for special occasions, which this was not. She sat in her traditional place in the set up, and felt somewhat underdressed in casual attire. The situation had taken her out of her grumpy stupor, but it was thrust back into her face only too quickly, as she looked up from her place to see that tall widow's peak and two dark eyes staring at her intently. She had the sudden urge to go back to her room and sulk some more, but the tantalising smell of dinner reminded Bulma that her stomach was empty, so she decided to endure.

* * *

By the end of that night, Bulma lay in her bed with the covers pulled tight as she reminisced her day that was anything but wondrous. She had spent those feeble hours flipping through magazines, and then decided to organise her wardrobe just to kill time, even though she knew it didn't need doing. The last time she recalled being this bored, she was stuck in a rocky outcrop on a far-off planet, waiting for the son and perverted friend of Goku to gather dragon balls. Funnily enough, that was shortly after she had chanced her first encounter with a certain Saiyan. Back then she considered him a real looker, falling right away for his figure-hugging attire that showed off just how strong he was. Nowadays, though it had only been little more than a year, she couldn't look past her distaste for the ogre of a man. He was always so wrapped up in power that he couldn't stop for one moment and think of anyone else… except for Goku, which just made him go on more about himself. At that moment, Bulma realised that by now she was no longer afraid of Vegeta, rather than being extremely pissed off; his brutish way of life infuriating her so much. She paused to consider if he was really just all talk, like a tame lion with an overgrown mane, after all, he hadn't done a single thing to cause any real harm other than psychological damage. Sure, he could lash out, but he always made sure that the chaos he spread was caused by non-violence, surely inflating his ego tenfold. Bulma felt thoroughly irked at the idea, and she suddenly realised that he had been playing everyone from the get-go, with his chauvinistic disposition and threatening manner. After all, Vegeta _was_ still inside from the rain just as Mrs Briefs had declared, which showed that he was either an idiot or trying some elaborate ruse to get more of a reaction from Bulma. She folded her arms under her bed sheets as she pondered. Perhaps what he needed, apart from a swift kick in the rear, was something to really get his motor running: a challenge.

* * *

Morning came only too quickly, and the murky light shining from the window once again hit Bulma's face as she tried to burrow deeper into her bed. The pitter-patter of raindrops tinkling against the glass pane brought only sad news, as she anticipated that this would be another rainy day inside. She took a deep breath in for good measure before pulling off the covers and reaching for her robe. The first few minutes went by rather uneventfully as Bulma washed her face and tried to do something with her hair; it was getting pretty awful to tame lately due to her growing indifference to everything in the past few weeks. As she was brushing out a particularly gnarly knot that had developed overnight, she then remembered exactly what had happened the day prior… especially her thoughts just before she nodded off.

"That bastard," she muttered to herself as the brush became stuck in her long blue locks, pulling so hard that she almost ripped the strands right off her scalp. She sat on her bed and took a long time to think of what to do whilst trying to unstick the stuck brush. It wasn't something easy to conjure in her mind, she had somehow managed to push all thoughts of Vegeta as far back into the recesses of her mind as she could so that she didn't end up shaking uncontrollably or something of the like. But now she decided to be her own psychiatrist and evaluate exactly what it was about the Saiyan that made her boots rattle.

_Of course_, she thought to herself, _he broke my wrist…_ She looked down for a moment to inspect her arm and, of course, it was perfectly healed without any sign that she was ever hurt… yet it seemed to tingle uncomfortable every time Vegeta popped into her mind. At that point Bulma felt the brush give way as she pulled it out of her hair, with a large clump as a souvenir. Relieved, she let herself fall backwards onto her mattress, lying face up towards the ceiling. Holding the brush above her, she inspected it with her blue hair providing a stark contrast. Vegeta was a little like this: different.

Being the heiress of such an economically and socially important company, Bulma knew only too well what it was like to have men from rich families try to woo her. Her parents (well… Bunny anyway) just didn't feel that Yamcha was a suitable match for their daughter, so Bunny often had gentlemen visit whenever she knew Bulma had a day off. Of course, Bulma practised her sass whenever one of these men was around, so Bunny entertained them for the rest of the day, which was her idea of a win-win situation. As a result of these encounters, Bulma came to know only too well that most men were egotistic, chauvinistic and always held themselves in the limelight for a little too long. Here is where Vegeta comes in: Bulma knew that he has every right to portray such a large ego, and he was one of the (very few) men on the entire _planet_ who had even half the strength he claimed… yet, he rarely used it. She knew that any average man would spend every waking moment flaunting something that was that impressive, yet Vegeta did not. _Sure_, he threatened everyone a hell of a lot, but you wouldn't guess that this short-stack with hair as tall as his pride could do half of the things he mentioned unless you chanced a peek at him training. The sheer power…

Something clicked as a light flickered on inside Bulma's mind. She wasn't so much intimidated by his actions, but his power, and the fact that he could very well do whatever he wanted, but didn't. This almighty Saiyan Prince, who was supposed to belong on the 'dark side', actually stopped himself from committing any indecency, which was… well, weird. Anyone would expect him to have blown up West City by now.

So knowing the 'who' and the 'how', Bulma let her scientific mind race to eventually come to the conclusion that this jerk deserved a little of his own medicine… with her own flair, of course. It was still extremely unnerving, thinking that she would actually set out to challenge Vegeta, when being near him was enough to put her in a foul mood. Luckily, she _was_ one to follow plans and experiments, and she deduced that the chances were that his reaction would be nothing but intimidate. If she could prove this, then maybe she could let herself relax a little with him in her house.

* * *

Another day wasted. That was the only thing that was on Vegeta's mind as he spent another day trying to find things to keep his mind off of his temporary imprisonment. Even though he was so wired, rearing to get out there and exert some energy, he knew that it was impossible, and he didn't want to cause any hassles with the lady of the house. However, this didn't stop him from scowling for the duration of the day. That morning, after his cold shower, he could swear that he looked less defined in the mirror, as if his muscles were deflating. It had taken a very strict regime to get his body just the way he wanted it, and here was his hard work going down the drain. He had weighed himself too, noticing that he had lost a few ounces, which was most probably the muscle mass that he detected was gone.

Vegeta had spent the entirety of the day prior in the library, studying the Doctor's engineering books, and had come to the conclusion that the pod he trained in could be upgraded substantially, and already should have been. He had spent hours mulling over how the change in gravity and other forces that an improved training area could increase his potential, and wether or not he could have already ascended to that of Super Saiyan. By the end of the day, although he had a superior intellect to most organisms in the galaxy, he was unable to come to any conclusion to such a question. Instead, today he decided to do as much training as he could in his own bedroom, although it was completely pointless compared to what he could do in an enhanced gravity field. Even his pre-warm-up stretching was done at 30x that of normal gravity. 1x was admittedly pathetic, which was why he was having such a hard time coming to terms with the fact that he could not escape the interior of this mansion without detection of that blasted blonde woman.

By the time the sun peaked in the sky, Vegeta found himself back in the library, trying to get his head around the strange quantum mechanics of Earth physics, having decided that this was a better way to 'waste time' than to pretend to train in his room. Besides, he had once again knocked over a standing lamp, and the shattered glass and broken fixtures strewn across the room made it suddenly feel cramped and uncomfortable, and if he made a point of being downstairs, Bunny would soon venture into his room and give it a thorough clean. She wouldn't even ask how or why there were large shards of glass protruding from the plaster in the wall or the burn marks on the ceiling. Despite her faults, she had long ago already proved that she was an asset to his life, providing him with food, shelter, and a clean floor to sleep on. With this mention of food, he noticed that the smell of dinner had crept its way into the library as it had the day before, signalling that it was time to be fed once again.

Vegeta put the engineering book away carefully and left a barrage of martial arts texts strewn across the room. He didn't want anyone to think much of his intelligence; it was a secret weapon of sorts. He then made his way to the kitchen to notice that the table there was plated as usual, rather than the fancy dining hall like the previous night. He didn't care one way or another (the lighting in the dining hall was too bright and hurt his eyes, but he suspected that Mrs Briefs went to an extra effort and prepared more food because of the change in location), and he sat at his usual spot, resting his fingers in the dents he had created from rapping them in boredom when he had to wait for his meals. Tonight was another western dish: spaghetti. The long pale noodles were slathered in a rich red sauce with great dollops of meat surrounding. It didn't look too satisfying, but there were a great number of side dishes to accompany the meal, so he didn't think anything of it after that.

As Bunny and the Doctor seated themselves, Vegeta felt his stomach gurgle in hunger, but was instructed to wait for Bulma, as they always did. He didn't know why exactly he had to exact such a courtesy upon her when she did all that she could to ignore him. He was just about ready to give up and dig in, when he sensed her presence as she strolled into the room. The room was silent, and Vegeta with his eyes set on the food, like any real Saiyan, began eating the moment he heard Bulma pull in her chair. After a few moments, he had already consumed one plate and was beginning his seconds, when he heard his name called.

"Vegeta," came an indifferent tone from none other than Bulma, who had been avoiding him as best she could. "Pass the vegetables, would you?" she said in a soft voice that tried to feign confidence. He gave no response to her request and continued with his pasta. There was a slight pause that was soon followed once again by the ringing shrillness of Bulma voice. "I can't reach, pass them over." Again he didn't respond, so she made one last attempt, taking a deep breath to steady her confidence, "Vegeta, don't ignore me."

She had managed to lower her tone and make herself sound cross, even though she was obviously unsure of wether or not she should risk saying such things. Even so, this difference in her voice was all that Vegeta needed to make him stop and look up in something close to disbelief. That was when he noticed that Dr and Mrs Briefs were politely pretending not to peer over their plates at his reaction. Bunny shot him a quick smile, which he didn't understand, so he turned to look towards Bulma across the table.

For some reason, she didn't seem like the same person as the day before. It wasn't only the fact that she had gone to some ludicrous lengths to 'pretty' herself up, but also that she was letting her voice travel farther than it usually did. Honestly, he didn't care that her hair was smooth and straight and she was wearing makeup for the first time in weeks. He was more interested in her psychological changes rather than the physical ones. Although the look on her face was still somewhat unsure of herself, she was actually making an effort to exert herself. She had spoken up to him… just like she had so long ago when she was seemingly fearless, and obnoxious as hell.

He gave the plate of steamed vegetables a quick flick of his wrist and it slid across the table like a hockey puck. Luckily, Bulma just managed to catch it before it flew off the table, and she shot him a cold glare. He responded in turn with his own fierce gaze and promptly returned to his dish. The rest of the meal went on in near silence, with only the clinking of cutlery and the sound of Vegeta shovelling down his food to break the cold layer of air that had settled around the table. That is, until Bulma decided to speak up once again, feeling more confident in herself as her nonverbal threats were undisputed.

"You're supposed to be _eating _the food, not inhaling it," she shot down the table at Vegeta, "you _are_ aware of that, right?"

Through mouthfuls of pasta, Vegeta was barely audible. "This is how Saiyans eat," he said, pausing to gulp down what was in his mouth to continue, "you never had a problem with it before."

Bulma looked back at him in disgust as drabs of sauce was smothered around his mouth and gave the look of bright lipstick. She collected herself once more before protesting again. "Well I have a problem with it now."

Suddenly it had become a proverbial tennis match, with slander being thrown across the room like so many yellow tennis balls, bouncing around and turning the icy air hot. Although the row only lasted 30 seconds, it was enough so that the both of them were red in the face, and the doctor and his wife and slunk back slightly in a feeble attempt to retreat from the action. Suddenly the shouting stopped, and something was mumbled on Vegeta's side of the table. Although it was muffled by his clenched fist covering his mouth, Bulma was sure she had heard something profoundly horrible, and rose from her chair to challenge it without any thought whatsoever.

"_What _did you just_ say_?" she questioned him, as her upright posture towered over the table.

Without hesitation, Vegeta also stood from his chair and now repeated what he had mumbled in full volume. "I said, at least I don't walk around looking like a sick animal with all that rubbish on my face!" he bellowed loudly and directly.

Suddenly Bulma didn't have a word in her vocabulary that could express how she felt then and there, but her shaking physique showed that her blood was boiling and she was about to explode. Her first reaction was to slap Vegeta in the face, and she almost did, but as she went to raise her hand she instead went for her plate of spaghetti. In one fell swoop she threw it with full force in whichever direction she pleased, her eyes focused deathly on Vegeta's, the plate landing with a squelch not on the ground, but stuck to the ceiling, food and all.

"At least I'm not some stupid oafish ape," she blurted out. Then, deciding she had had enough excitement for one evening, Bulma stormed out of the kitchen and towards her room.

The heavy silence once again settled over the table, Vegeta still standing for a moment longer before sitting back down to finish his own food, a smirk on his face as he did so.

"Well…" came an overwhelmed breath from Bunny as she stared up at the ceiling where spaghetti glue plate and plaster together, "maybe next time I'll go easy on the sauce." She too then found herself smiling to herself as she finished her meal. Sure, this wasn't the best scenario, but at least they were back to talking to each other. _It's a start_, she thought, pausing as another thought entered her mind. She looked up once again at the spaghetti on the roof… _I'll clean that up later._


End file.
